Another Chance?
by cedari
Summary: COMPLETE "Part of him wanted to break the door down, grab hold of her and never let go, the other, wanted her to suffer" 10 years after Hogwarts. Some things have changed: the death of Voldemort, a dark new rising and Some haven’t: denial,love...
1. Default Chapter

**Another Chance******

**By Cedar1**

A/N hey, decided to start another story, my mind was going a bit whirly (is that even a word?) concentrating on just one story. The plot for this one is probably a bit clichéd, so I'm sorry for my lack of originality, but I hope u enjoy it and will try and avoid making it too fluffy. As ever am ecstatic when I get reviews, so go on click the review button and know u made someone v.happy! For those of u who are reading "Immortal" (my other one) Chapter 6 shud b out pretty soon, sorry 4 the wait. For those who haven't as yet please do and let me know what u think! Think have covered everythin so I'll stop babbling and let u get on with the story.... (hope u like it!)  
  
Disclaimer: I could lie, but am too poor to get sued, so don't own anything, apart from maybe a plot  
  
**Chapter 1:**** Past love?**  
  
Hermione Granger made her way up the deteriorating stone steps, minding not to tread on any loose rocks that would enviably lead to her nursing a bruised ankle. She smiled at the memory of Harry and Ron when she first brought them here and how they had looked dubious when she attempted to convince them that the dangerous foot path was all part of the little house's charm. She had bought it around a year ago, finally moving out of the hovel she had been sharing with her two best friends. There was only so much talk of quidditch and Lavender Brown's ever unnatural figure a girl's ear could take, at first the boys - maybe she should be saying young men- anyway they were disappointed. Of course they would be, they were losing their personal maid. When the boxes had been packed, and labeled appropriately; 'kitchen', 'bedroom' etc she had left the flat with their sad eyes, and slight frowns plaguing on her mind. So much so that the night had been filled with guilt ridden feelings, thus she had gone to work the next day prepared to desert the new love of her life and move back in. But when she saw their smiles and usual cheerful attitude she realized that they had learnt to appreciate the benefits of having a Hermione Granger free house. No nagging about unwashed dishes, no Crookshanks (a big bonus for Ron), and no embarrassment when they came across Hermione's underwear drying on the shower rail - she never trusted doing magic on her delicates.  
  
Well all that had led to her present happy situation, living in a lovely Victorian house in the midst of a mainly muggle populated area. Reaching her blue door she started sifting through her black briefcase searching for her ever-elusive keys. You would think that Hermione Granger would have a special compartment in her bag for such an item, but such a simple idea never entered her mind. But instead she commenced on her nightly ritual hunt, filtering through the scrap pieces of paper that littered her bag. So occupied in her jumble of things that she had been unaware of the figure that was fast approaching her. "Accio keys," declared a strong voice from the darkness behind her. In a state of confusion Hermione watched as her keys whizzed out her bag bursting through the rubbish that had hidden it, and traveled straight to an awaiting palm. Hermione mentally kicked herself; of course she could just say that every night and avoid wasting time. Fool! Suddenly she became aware of the presence behind her, when the sound of shuffling feet reached her ears. Her hand slowly slid into her jacket, and on finding her wand in the inner pocket her fingers curled around one end ready for action.  
  
" You would think the cleverest witch from Hogwarts could remember that simple charm," came a mocking tone.

Recognizing the voice Hermione allowed her fingers to release their death grip around her wand and turned round to face her critic, and decided to remark on his rudeness rather than her stupidity. " Don't you know it's bad-mannered to scare someone like that? Creeping up behind me, you should be ashamed of yourself Ronald Weasley," stated a haughty Hermione Granger.

" If you forgive me, I promise." he laid his hand over his heart, "...not to make Harry aware of the information that a former head girl could not recall a spell made for 1st years."

Hermione felt her cheeks blush in embarrassment.

"Alrite it's a deal," she confirmed, as she snatched the keys from Ron's outstretched hand. Noting the fact that the shivers that had once occurred in childhood when they grazed against each other were no longer present. A few months ago she and Ron had embarked on a relationship, much to the approval of Harry who had always felt that they were perfect for one another. Her initial feelings had been of excitement, as she reminisced about her earlier crush on the young Weasley - that being before her heart had been broken, or more precisely shattered. Not having been on a date since then, she had felt that Ron would be a good starting point considering their past. However after a few empty kisses they both realized that earlier feelings could not be evoked from the dredges of time and be utilized in the present, and the love affair had ended as abruptly as it began (despite Harry's attempts at rekindling the fire). Perhaps whatever feelings transpired in the past, would remain there and never re-surface. For people and their circumstances change over time and maybe it's not possible to feel the same about a person always, perceptions are bound to change, Hermione thoughtfully reflected as she opened the front door for her and Ron.  
  
On stepping into the lit hallway, a ginger cat lazily padded its way to its owner. Hermione picked Crookshanks up, and tickled him affectionately under his chin the cat purred contentedly. It then became aware of the other person stood behind his owner, almost as if it knew exactly who it was it stopped purring and glared intently at Ron.

"Stupid bloody cat," mumbled Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped turning round, it's your fault he doesn't like you, remember, you stood on his tail once when you came back home drunk. Ron's eyes glazed as he recalled the fond memory, chuckling under his breath, a smile playing on his lips. Hermione merely harrumphed when she saw the look of amusement on Ron's face, and headed to the living room; leaving Ron who was happily reliving that particular occasion.  
  
Hermione threw her bag on to the coffee table in the middle of the room, the contents spilling onto the tabletop as she threw her jacket on top of the pile, it missed and fell to the floor. Each lamp in turn was lit, as Hermione pointed her wand at all of them uttering "Lumos" each time. The room was now filled with a cozy glow, and Hermione collapsed on her favourite worn armchair. Kicking of her shoes, she wriggled her toes as she released them from their previous confined state.

"Ahhh.." Hermione sighed as she felt the cushions surrounding her envelope her body, as tiredness consumed her. Closing her eyes, she felt herself drifting into blissful sleep. Nearly there she thought as darkness began to cloud her mind.

"Hermione!" Damn it! She had forgotten he was there. Reluctantly she opened her eyes, meeting the steady gaze from Ron's blue ones.

"Oh sorry." not really meaning it, "..what was it you wanted to talk about." Weariness clearly apparent in her voice; in truth she might have played it up in the hope that Ron would make it quick.

As if reading her mind Ron replied, " I'll be quick, Harry wanted me to give you this."  
  
Reaching into his robe pocket he pulled on a brown manila folder, and handed it to her. It took all of Hermione's will power to lift up her hand and receive the folder. She glanced down slightly puzzled, "Why didn't you just owl it?"

"Oh its top secret, don't want it getting into the wrong hands," answered Ron knowingly winking at her, "Well best get going."

"Hot date?" questioned Hermione jokingly. At the mention of the word date Ron's cheeks immediately flushed.

" Err yes. Yes, yes I have," he stammered as if he too needed clarification.

"Oh!" Hermione was appalled as herself when she detected the trace of disappointment that tinged her words. Why shouldn't Ron go out, just because she was a lonely spinster didn't mean that he had to endure the same fate.

"Oh," she repeated. This time no disappointment thought a proud Hermione, only jealously her inner voice successfully pointed out. " So who's the lucky girl?" asked Hermione, feigning interest. In all honesty she didn't care, Ron was getting on with his life and she wasn't, still suffering from the same heartache that cursed her more than 10 years ago. Ron sat down on the chair opposite her, his face lit up with excitement.

"Susy Richards, you remember her, dark haired, from Hufflepuff, in our year." Hermione simply inclined her head, recognizing the name but not so much the face.

"Well we met in the lift at the ministry, she's working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. And well we got talking and she asked me to dinner. Can you believe it she asked me for dinner?" Ron gave no time for Hermione to answer as he rapidly resumed his story. "Well we're going out to the Wilting flowers, its amazing they have all these flowers on the walls and tables, and they change according to the mood and..." It was somewhere around this point in Ron's rambling that Hermione felt herself nodding of, her eyelids gradually falling. Then she was dreaming, strangely she was floating on a bed of rose petals, which were altering from red to green. So comfortable, she shuffled herself further into the exquisite flowerbed, welcoming the warmth that overcame her.  
  
"So what do you think?" inquired Ron for a third time. Lifting his eyes from the floor, he was greeted with the sight of Hermione snuggled into the chair, a contented smile featuring on her full lips. "Oh well looks like I'll have to decide whether to take chocolates or flowers by myself," Ron sighed to himself. He walked over to her, and could not resist moving the stray curl that had escaped her regulation bun, and was now resting on her face. Carefully he pushed it back to its correct position, tucking it behind her ear. Although the task was now complete he could not bring himself to remove his fingers from the side of her face. It should be you I should be buying chocolates or flowers for, not Susy Richards. Looks wise she hadn't grown up to be stunning like Cho Chang, but there was just something about her that Ron could never understand. Something that made his heart ache every time he saw her, and knew she was not with him and never would be. It pained him to think of that summer day when she, the only one for him, turned round and explained to him that she felt nothing when she was with him, nothing when he kissed her or held her in her arms. In his state of anguish Ron simply agreed with all that was being said, not wanting his best friend to know how much she was killing him. As the memory of that day came flooding back Ron jerked his fingers away from her soft skin, as a burning sensation came over them. It was no point loving someone who was obviously still in love with someone else. Turning his back away from her Ron apparated to his awaiting date, deciding to pick up roses, because Hermione would have liked them.

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"Huh." Hermione awoke from her pleasant nap, her exclamation reverberated around the empty room.

" Ron." She called, sleepiness still evident in her voice. No answer. He must have gone concluded Hermione. Yeah, gone on his hot date with Susy whats her name, she thought irritated. Wiping her hand against her mouth, she removed the remnants of drool that sleep inevitably invited. That's why you've not got a boyfriend Hermione Granger, you're a slob. As if she needed further evidence, her eyes flicked over the coffee table, her things scattered on the surface. Determined to start a new life slob-free Hermione sat up and reached out to the table, prepared to begin the weary job of tidying up. She couldn't even be arsed to get her wand, which had somehow been dropped on the floor and had now rolled into the adjoining kitchen. But she was quickly distracted from her plan by the sound of papers crunching below her bare feet. Bending down she retrieved the contents of the brown folder that had floated out of their protective cover, as the grip of the sleeping Hermione had loosened. Rifling through the mass of documents in her hands, which were no longer in the order in which they had been painstakingly put in, Hermione found what she was looking for, Harry's letter.  
  
She rapidly skimmed over the words; presumed.death eaters ..meetings..rising etc. This confirmed it, it was happening again, Hermione bitterly accepted. The letter was just written affirmation of the rumours that were hushly being passed from wizard to wizard. There was a new dark rising, Hermione felt her body slump, the feeling of tiredness returning ten fold. Voldemort had been killed several years ago, of course the golden trio had been instrumental, but they hadn't basked in the glory not when hundreds had died fighting the bloody war. Instead they faded into the background, continuing to work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Aurors, collecting information on those, if indeed there were any who were wanting to seek revenge. Nothing substantial had been found for years, and the wizarding community had settled down to a strange, but pleasantly quiet life without a dark shadow looming over them. Unfortunately as the old saying goes, good things must come to an end and over the last year there had been reports of familiar acts of muggle torture, and more recently deaths. The letter went on to explain the locations of the meetings, what had been possibly mentioned at such gatherings and finally details on suspected death eaters, or in Hermione's mind murderers. Amid the mass of paperwork were the photographs of the various wizards thought guilty of maintaining their allegiance to the now dead Voldemort. Unsurprisingly as Hermione passed the photos from one hand to another, she came across faces she knew and recognized: Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini to name but a few. Finally she came across the one face that she had been dreading seeing in the collection, but at the same time knew it was inescapable, Draco Malfoy.  
  
Her finger traced the outline of the man's face, that would every so often turn and smirk at her, caressing the features that she used to know as well as she did her own. Maybe she still did. Closing her eyes Hermione conjured up the image of the Draco Malfoy that she had once known. Platinum blonde hair falling elegantly to the shoulders, framing what could only be described as the perfect face; full lips, high cheekbones, a straight pointed nose and not forgetting the crowning glory, the eyes. Not considering the eyes one could describe Draco as handsome, but with them he ascended into a different level, beauty. Silver, with whirls of blue that sucked you in the moment you looked at them. Eyes that could radiate such passion that you could feel yourself melting on the spot from the heat that was generated. Hermione's heart began to pound at the memory of being looked upon with such a gaze; a tingly sensation descended upon her as she recalled images of the two of them, gazes firmly locked. But then those visions faded, as later ones took their place. The same eyes, but there was no heat only coldness. She now remembered why she hated him. The photo slipped out of her grasp and drifted onto the floor. She had to get away from him, rising unsteadily she made her way to the kitchen.  
  
Trembling fingers held the glass under the open tap, permitting water to spill into it. Still haunted by the image of silver eyes Hermione left the kitchen forgetting to turn the tap off. Tilting her head upwards she took a deep gulp, hoping to cure the dryness that was plaguing her throat in one attempt. Satisfied that it had indeed been treated Hermione moved the glass away from her wet lips, dropping her head down. What she saw next made her release her hold on the glass, it fell to the floor, smashing. Shards of glass rebounded of the floor and pierced into her exposed feet. However Hermione was numb to the pin pricks of pain, as she remained fixated on the man in front of her.

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A/N well thats chapter one, I'm sorry if it's really slow it shud pick up a bit after. Please review, all are welcome, the: happy, funny, scary, rude, mad, nice, angry etc. Send me any ideas cos I'll need them!

thanx, bye 4 now


	2. swept away

**Another Chance?****  
  
****By Cedar1**  
  
A/N at the mo am feeling rather happy with myself cos have finished this chap, and chapter 6 of 'immortal'. Mini celebration for me, me thinks! However If they're any good is another matter, so read on and tell what u think..  
  
Disclaimer: Nope own nothing except a poor excuse for a plot.  
  
**Chapter 2**: **Swept away**  
  
" Can't say that I wasn't expecting you to be surprised, but perhaps smashing crockery is taking things a bit too far," said Draco, a look of amusement gracing his features. Hermione hadn't registered a word he had just said, she was still getting over the fact that a Malfoy was in her house, sitting on her favourite armchair as calmly as this was an every day situation, and not against the laws of nature. She didn't care what snide comments were being uttered from his lips; she just wanted to know what the hell he was doing here. And not being in the right mind to think of a better way of phrasing it she said just that.

"What the hell are you doing here Malfoy?" She couldn't help but be pissed off at the way he was unperturbed by her question and simply remarked.

" Malfoy? Why so formal? I think we know enough about each other to use first names. Don't you think?" he gazed at her expectantly.  
  
Hermione still in a state of shock remained unresponsive to the question posed, as she allowed her eyes to travel along the real - life Malfoy sat serenely in front of her. Unlike herself, time had done nothing to hamper Malfoy's appearance; he was still as beautiful as the day when they had first laid in bed together. Momentarily Hermione left reality behind as she commenced on a trip down memory lane; remembering the feel of his skin beside hers, the taste of his lips ... Unconsciously she brought her hand to her mouth, trying to recreate the movement of Draco's fingers against her bottom lip. A frequent act that was once performed by the past lovers, a caress that never failed to set her lips on fire. A sudden movement by Malfoy caught her attention in the corner of her eye, and brought her plummeting down to her present situation. There was a dangerous death eater in her house, and it was pretty certain he wasn't here to discuss about old times over biscuits and tea. Wand, she needed her wand. Hermione's eyes began to scan the surface of the floor, avoiding any serious movement so not to make it too obvious what she was doing.  
  
" If you wanted a photo, I could have sent you a better one," teased Malfoy; grasping the photo of himself that Hermione had been brooding over about earlier. The aside caused Hermione to stop her search for her disappearing wand, and for the first time since his arrival made true eye contact with Malfoy. Draco catching the look of puzzlement in her eyes realized that she had been deaf to his comment and waved the photo in the air hoping she would catch on. Hermione merely grunted, as she was slowly immersing herself in swirls of silver and blue, enjoying the tingles that were beginning to travel through her body. However the period of pleasure was soon disrupted when her voice of sanity decided to finally make itself known, " Wand," Hermione muttered under her breath. Yes her wand. Breaking the connection, Hermione began to search for her weapon, her head wildly moving from one end of the room to the other. All covert actions forgotten, desperate times called for desperate measures. Where the fuck was it, as panic began to engulf her.  
  
Once again Malfoy halted her quest, this time with a loud cough. Hermione swung round to face him, and her face instantly paled when she noticed her prized possession clutched in his hand.

" You wouldn't be looking for this, would you?" questioned Draco, continuing his rare playful mode, the wand being gently tapped against his jaw.

" You stupid arse! Is it not enough you are a fucking murderer, do you have to be an insufferable git to boot?" Hermione screamed, forgetting that a single false move could lead to her resting peacefully in a grave, and so she continued. " Of course I wasn't looking for that you fool! No I was looking for a camera, so I could capture this wonderful moment," Hermione said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"Now, now there is no need to be like that," Draco added patronizingly, as if he was talking to a 5 year old. And ironically that was exactly what Hermione looked like, her lips pursed together in a childish pout, her cheeks flushed with frustration. Any minute now it looked like she was going to stamp her feet and scream about the unfairness of the whole situation.

But instead she reverted back to her original question, "What the hell are you doing here Malfoy?"

Malfoy appeared to be thinking about how to answer, his brow furrowed in thoughtfulness. After a sufficiently dramatic pause he answered, " I came to collect you."

Hermione waited, expecting further details, however none came, as Malfoy seemed to consider it an answer enough. But no way was Hermione just going to leave that statement hanging in the air, " What do you mean you have come to collect me? Where the fuck are you taking me? ...Actually what am I talking about, I'm not going anywhere with you, you death eater scum. Now get out of my house, which god knows how you entered in the first place, before I call some aurors and haul your ass to Azkaban," Hermione screamed, her index finger on her right hand pointing to the door.  
  
Pocketing her wand in his robe pocket, Draco got up, " Now don't be silly. I have your wand remember.." He tapped his long fingers against his pocket,".So you can either do this the easy way or the hard way." He waved his wand in front of him, as if he needed to clarify precisely what the latter option would involve. Hermione swiftly turned around and grabbed the vase Ginny had bought her for her 25th birthday, and using all her might flung it towards Malfoy. Underlining the fact that the word easy did not appear in her dictionary of vocabulary. However Draco blessed with both naturally quick reflexes and a father, who made certain it remained that way, was quick to counter the action. With a swish of his wand and a lazily muttered "Lengardium Leviosa" the vase was brought to a standstill mid-air. Hermione's breathe caught in her throat when, with another flick of the wrist Malfoy sent the vase flying back to its original position, narrowly missing her face. His expression was no longer one of amusement and Hermione wasn't sure whether the vase not hitting her face had purely been a mistake on Malfoy's part, because right now he looked ready to kill her. And when he pointed his wand at her, she thought he was about to do just that. She began to accept the fact that she was going to die at the hands of the man who she truly loved the most, as well as hated - well no one can be perfect, even Draco Malfoy. Closing her eyes, Hermione Granger at the grand old age of twenty-eight, prepared to meet her fate. Her heart was pounding, blood was rushing through her arteries, her breathing on the verge of hyperventilation, and all the while her ears pricked up, awaiting that critical statement, " Avada Kedavra."  
  
Instead the word "Mobilicorpus" reached her eardrums, and in a second Hermione could feel something tightening around her wrists and ankles. Invisible strings were cutting into her flesh, drawing blood, which drop-by- drop fell to the floor. Jolts of pain shot up her arms and legs, she looked at Malfoy angrily. Seeing the malicious smirk adorning his face only made her wish she was enjoying the pleasures of heaven instead of being stuck here, with him. Another casual flick and Hermione felt herself being pulled towards him; she tried to fight the dragging force by digging her heels into the floor, gritting her teeth in response to the stinging pain that was gradually invading her body. Yet despite her determination, she was defeated by magic and she was drawn towards her captor. Her face was now within an inch of his chest, close enough for her mind to begin to numb due to his scent that was flooding her senses. In her condition of haziness she was conscious of the finger that came to rest on her chin, and reluctantly centimeter-by-centimeter her head was lifted until puppet and handler came face to face.  
  
First he gently caressed her chin, then the finger began to journey upwards until it reached the planes of her lips, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Slowly it started moving along them, despite herself an appreciative moan escaped her lips. He was making her endure such agony, for she felt herself being split into two; on one hand her body was yearning for his touch, on the other her head screamed at her to remove herself from his reach. Draco chuckled at the obvious battle she was undergoing.

" You always liked it when I did that, its amazing how little things change." He moved in closer, his delicious lips brushing against her ear, causing goose pimples to erupt on the sensitive skin.

" Don't tell me, Weasley never did that?" he whispered. Hermione immediately jerked away, unsure whether it was the smarting comment or from the sudden touch of his tongue along her ear.

" Can you not just leave me alone?" whimpered Hermione, ashamed at herself for sounding so desperate and weak at the same time. Draco either ignored her plea or failed to hear it, for his fingers once more clutched her chin, the grip tightening. Twisting her face, he brought his lips unbearably close to her own, his breathe passing into her parted lips.

" Did he never do this either?" he murmured. Hermione knew what was coming, and to her disgrace willed it to come sooner, for the anticipation was killing her from the inside out.  
  
For what seemed like eternity his lips approached her own, before they finally landed on their destination. The kiss wasn't hard or full of past passion but was light and gentle, and in Hermione's opinion perfect. For as his lips moved against hers, streams of pleasure flowed from them through her skin, until every part of her was tingling with bliss. Too soon he broke away from her, panting slightly like herself. Caught up in the pleasure he had caused Hermione did not hear him whisper, "Labor laps," (not sure if this is right?) before it was too late. She could feel her body getting heavier and heavier, her legs began to tremble under the weight, until she could stand it no more and allowed herself to fall into Malfoy's awaiting arms. As the inside of her head descended into darkness she wondered why it had taken Draco so long to finally sweep her from under her feet.

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A/N ok chapter 2 finished, am not too sure on it so review and tell me if it is a thumbs up or a tremendous thumbs down. Finally I wanna thank (a lot!) Thalion and Serpent Du Feu for your continued reviewing, they really help spur me on. You're both complete and utter stars! Oh and don't think is gonna be a sequel for immortal.  
  
Cheers and bye for now


	3. Nothing?

**Another Chance?****  
**  
**By Cedar1**  
  
A/N I am really sorry 4 the slow updating, have been tryin to get things sorted 4 uni and has been complete chaos! Am startin bk nxt wk and bein the slave drivers that they r I don't think I will be able to update v. quickly. (oh and will try and get chap 8 of 'immortal' out!) But please send me reviews, they really motivate me, and u never know I cud post sooner (ah the bribing tactic is back!) Well hope this chapter was worth the wait....  
  
Disclaimer: Well am gonna try wishin upon a star tonite, so u never know crossing fingers, but sayin that it hasn't worked the last million times I tried it, cos am still only a poor lowly student.  
  
**Chapter 3**: **Nothing?  
** Hermione stretched her sluggish muscles, arms raised above her head, toes pointing, peeking out of the covers. She let out a sigh of contentment, her mind still submerged in the cloudiness of sleep. Curling her body from underneath her, she nestled her head deeper into the fluffy pillow, ready to fall once again into blissful slumber. She could vaguely feel gentle fingers brushing through her hair, lulling her to sleep. Hold on, fingers in her hair, her mind suddenly cleared. She darted up, ideas of rest all forgotten. She whirled her head round, seeing who the fingers would lead to. She already knew who it would be, but shock still tainted her scream.

"Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes flitted around her, taking in her surroundings, " Where the fuck am I?" The spacious bed was the focal point of the expansive room, boasting mahogany furnishings, heavy velvet drapes and a large gilded mirror. The entire décor shrieked of Slytherin mansion, she angrily confronted her jailer, "I'm at yours aren't I? I'm in a friggin death eaters home! Aren't I?"  
  
However, Malfoy was blatantly ignoring her livid ramblings; his fingers still idly immersed in her unruly brown curls, and his gaze otherwise engaged. Infuriated by his attitude Hermione followed his line of sight, only to become more pissed off. The bastard! His eyes were trained on her breasts that were encased in a satin negligence, which at the moment was doing a pathetic job of covering her assets. And just when did she begin wearing flimsy nightclothes? No doubt Malfoy took it upon himself to dress her in her unconscious state, how considerate of him - a heavy slathering of sarcasm icing her thoughts. Feeling self-conscious her arms immediately went to cover her chest, and Malfoy let out a heavy sigh as a curtain was drawn over the peep show. His head collapsed on the pillow, next to Hermione and he let out another groan of discontentment. That only served to heighten the anger bubbling under Hermione's skin, who turned round and started punching the relaxed figure at her side.

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By all accounts Draco was in heaven, lying in bed with Hermione at his side, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. The fact that she was brought here against her will was a point he was willing to overlook. At first Draco had been furious at the alliance's proposals for him to fetch one of the head aurors; and Hermione no less, for Malfoys didn't do dogsbody work. But after a series of heated conversations and not forgetting a large dose of ego-stroking Draco committed himself to the plan. Hermione had been the obvious target, a woman - easier to break- staying by herself unlike Potter and Weasely who continued to act like 15 year old boys and were living in each others pockets. It had taken him a while to counter the various charms she had installed in her tiny house, he wouldn't have expected anything less from such a gifted witch. It had been strange; for the first time in years Draco had found his heart pounding with nervousness in the final minutes before apparating into her living room. He hadn't seen her face to face for what had been around ten years, with the last time being graduation, and basing her reaction on what had passed that night he didn't think she would be overjoyed to see him; and his prediction had been proven right.  
  
His lips curved into a smirk as an image of a furious Hermione twisted itself free from the mass of memories in his head, until it was the focus of all his thoughts in his mind. Her hair had been messily tied up in the restricting bun, but as ever, wild curls had fought their captivity and strands of brown were loose and shaking violently, coordinating with the angry trembles that were overtaking her body. Mentally he shifted his gaze to her face; 10 years had altered nothing at all, her large eyes were still bursting with every feeling that coursed through her, a small nose, flushed cheeks and full pouty lips. A sigh brought him back to reality, and Draco looked down at the girl, no woman, lying next to him. Her appearance was so different from what he had pictured only moments ago, here she was at peace. Long eyelashes resting upon creamy skin, curls tossed disorderly on the pillow. Instinctively his fingers submerged into the tangles, stroking them, familiarizing himself once more to their touch. It was meant to be strictly business, 10 years, 10 years he thought would be enough time to forget past feelings, past love. But the moment he saw her, and kissed her he realized how naïve he had been. He knew now, first love, dare he say it true love never left you no matter the distance or the hours past; it stayed dormant, waiting patiently for its time of re-emergence. And when their lips touched it had come alive, taking over him, leaving every other meaningless kiss he had had previously in its wake. Unlike Hermione, Draco had partaken in several affairs, a mistress always waiting in the sidelines ready to be called upon if Draco desired it; but all that had vanquished into nothingness with that single meeting of lips.  
  
She suddenly bolted upwards, her face first expressing confusion before realization and subsequent anger hit her, stiffening her body. Draco could vaguely hear her shouting about something, but he was somewhat distracted, his eyes following the smooth outline of her breasts. It was surprising, he noticed it when he dressed her last night; although her face had barely changed her body had matured during those lost years. As a girl she was slim, flat and angled, not that he complained at the time but now her body was the epitome of sloping womanly curves. Perfect!, unconsciously he wetted his lips. But the moment was soon lost, when an arm was lifted blocking his view. Draco couldn't help but groan, she always had to spoil things, they couldn't just indulge themselves in the pleasure of each other there, no there had to be something to discuss or problems to iron out. Nothing was ever simple. His head fell on the adjacent pillow, another groan passed through the tension-filled atmosphere. However Draco had appeared to have crossed a line that had already been drawn in their brief reunion and was subjected to furious fists pounding into his firm flesh. 

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Harry calmly looked around Hermione's flat, his actions appearing like an moment of curiosity; fingers rifling through drawers, eyes roving from one place to another searching for obvious discrepancies. However the outward appearance was nothing like what was building up inside, worry, uneasiness, fear; but a keen observer would notice how his fingers shook as he went through her things and the way in which his normally sparkling green eyes were dulled by the cloud of dread that had descended upon them. He had always been the strong one, the calm one in their duo but any minute now his self-control was going to crumble and release a tidal wave of emotion. He dared not imagine what had happened to Hermione, it had been two days and nothing. They hadn't heard from anybody; no confessions of kidnapping, no call from Hermione saying that she had decided to go on holiday, nothing. Only an empty manila folder discarded on the floor, with no signs of their contents in the house. Harry turned round to face Ron.  
  
Unlike Harry, Ron was not an active believer in the act of self- control and had: already gone through all the more colourful words in his vocabulary, some twice; sacked several sub-ordinates, who Harry then had to re-instate; pounded his fists on the bricks, till there was blood staining the walls of Hermione's living room. He was now sitting on her armchair; one shaky hand raking through his fiery red hair the other holding a cigarette, which was now no more than an inch long. Nervously he brought the cigarette to his lips, took one long puff before dropping it on the floor and grounding it into the carpet.  
  
"What are we going to do? We don't even know where she is!" his voice barely whisper, had taken Harry by surprise, who had been staring at the crushed cigarette butt.  
  
"I don't know!" came the painfully truthful reply. They both sat in uncomfortable silence, for the house had already been emptied of the aurors who had filled the rooms yesterday, as they had been ordered on assignments of research.  
  
"It has to be death eaters. There isn't anybody else," stated Ron, breaking the stillness.  
  
"Well who else could it fucking be!" yelled Harry, who had finally given in to his emotions.  
  
Ron burst from his chair, his cheeks burning red, fingers pointing accusingly at Harry, " Well if it's so fucking obvious why is our chief auror sitting on his backside doing nothing. Why the fuck aren't we knocking on the doors off our friendly neighbourhood death eaters, and pounding their faces in until they tell us where Hermione is!"  
  
If only it was that easy, thought Harry, his hands cradling his head. " You know we can't Ron, we need evidence, we can't just start arresting people. And if you haven't noticed we have nothing.." His hands waving in front of him, " Nothing here, nothing from our sources, no strange behaviour recorded by any of the usual suspects. We've got nothing Ron. Absolutely nothing! Not even Hermione!" There was no holding back now, tears were streaming down his eyes. Life just wasn't fair.  
  
Ron's posture immediately slackened as he watched his best friend break down, his body getting smaller and smaller in the chair. Ron approached him, and hesitantly put a supporting arm around him, afraid that he would be beaten away, but no. "We'll find her Harry and we'll kill the bastards who took her," declared Ron.  
  
Darkness soon surrounded the two tired figures, as they prepared themselves for yet another day of horror.

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"You Bastard! You complete and utter son of a bitch!." Hermione bawled, she was now straddling him; scratching, punching hitting the man lying beneath her. The thud of knuckles on flesh providing a rhythm to the stream of words that came from her mouth. Every single degrading insult her mind could think of had already been spoken, so she was forced to repeat the rather short list again and again.  
  
------------------------------------ 

Draco, at first found his predicament humorous, for no woman except of course Hermione, had ever had the courage to a raise a hand against him, much less make contact. But Hermione had continued for what must have been five minutes, punching him angrily. Her words did nothing to affect his composure, he had heard worse from his father and occasionally his mother, it was like water off a duck's back. So instead he decided to wait it out, wait for her to give in, wait for her to realize that she was in a no win situation, that she had lost. He was a patient man when the time called for it.  
  
------------------------------------

Her arms were getting tired now, and the insults had stopped a while ago. She felt drained and reluctantly she brought her arms to rest at her side. She looked down into his eyes and said in a quiet whisper, for she was too exhausted to scream anymore, " I hate you. You mean nothing to me. You're nothing." She could see his eyes becoming increasingly colder with each remark, amusement hardening to steel. " Can you hear what I'm saying. You're nothing, even compared to the non-entity that was your father." Her voice had become progressively more assertive, feeding from the obvious anger that was rising within him. She could feel the body pressing against her stiffen, and waves of confidence were surging through her veins. She pressed her lips against his right ear, so close that she could almost taste the scent he gave off on the tip of her tongue when she spoke, " You're nothing. How does it feel to be a nobody?"  
  
------------------------------------

The blood that ran through him was beginning to boil with greater ferocity with each biting remark concerning his insignificance. Draco had had enough put-downs in the past regarding his inadequacy; they had been drilled into him, spurring him on to make something of himself. And he had, he had death eaters crawling on their hands and knees begging to do his pleasing, women craving for his touch; there was nobody in the wizarding world who didn't either respect or fear him. Draco Malfoy was somebody, and it enraged him to think that some mudblood had the audacity to deny that. Fury fuelled his following actions, and in one swift motion he had grabbed her motionless arms and had flipped her over, reversing their positions. His fingers maintained their agonizing hold on her wrist, nails piercing into sensitive skin as his pushed his body against her, crushing her.  
  
His nose was now centimeters from hers, and he could feel and hear her breathing becoming gradually more rapid and laboured. She was struggling to get air in her system, as his weight squashed her lungs and airways. He looked deep into her brown eyes and noted with satisfaction that they were screaming with unbridled fear.  
  
"I'm not nothing, and the sooner you understand that the better." He waited for a glimmer of acknowledgement but none came.  
  
"I could kill you right now, you know," came the warning, seriousness edging the threat; in response she began squirming beneath him trying to remove herself form his control. The feel of her body moving beneath him was slowly converting his anger to burning lust, and he found himself staring intently at her parted lips; they were calling to him, yearning for his touch. 'So why deny them?' questioned his inner voice, and with that he once more claimed what he thought was rightfully his.

* * *

A/N feelin rather brain dead now, but hope u thought this chapter was alrite, as always am not too sure on it; so please, please, please etc review! All r welcome, I can take it hmmmm..! Was really surprised (in a brill way) how many people reviewed by last chapter, so I wanna say thanx to...  
  
Serpent du feu: glad u liked my idea with the spell thing! Hope u liked this chap!  
  
Thalion1: am really happy u like this story as well, both have evil Draco YAY! Shud b updating immortal soon soz about the wait.  
  
Not sure yet: thanx! Just a ? is that u're pen name, or are u thinking of sumthin else? Just wonderin, kinda like it as it is thou!  
  
JaceMia: Hope u liked this chap as much as the other! Please review and tell me what u thought - another pathetic plea!  
  
Mesmer: am really sorry 4 the wait. Oh and Hermione has got lots of things in store 4 her, hopefully there will be a couple of twists..  
  
Megan: Cheers! Hope u enjoyed this one.  
  
Krisaay: Thanx a lot!  
  
Amy: so what do u say? Shud I be fed to the lions or not 4 this chap?  
  
Ok that's everyone PS please review again would like to reach the 25 mark, still haven't dun it yet! author pulls sad face)  
  
((( Ta very much, and bye 4 now ((( 


	4. A waiting game

**Another Chance?****  
****  
By Cedar1**  
  
A/N ok b4 i get rotten fruit and veg thrown at me I'm sorry for the wait for this chapter. Have been concentrating on my other two stories, and am ashamed to say that I have neglected this one. So without further ado, please read on and as usual reviews are always welcome!  
  
Disclaimer: Unless J K Rowling fancies selling the Harry Potter empire for empties piggy bank errr.. £1.36 I don't think I'll be getting my grubby paws on it! sighs   
  
**Chapter 4**: **A waiting game**  
  
**Previously**  
  
" I'm not nothing, and the sooner you understand that the better." He waited for a glimmer of acknowledgement but none came.  
  
"I could kill you right now, you know," came the warning, seriousness edging the threat; in response she began squirming beneath him trying to remove herself form his control. The feel of her body moving beneath him was slowly converting his anger to burning lust, and he found himself staring intently at her parted lips; they were calling to him, yearning for his touch. 'So why deny them?' questioned his inner voice, and with that he once more claimed what he thought was rightfully his.

**Chapter 4**: **A waiting game**  
  
Her mouth remained shut, her head trying to shake off his lips that were pressing against her own, demanding a response. Hermione couldn't breathe; she was suffocating from the weight of him pushing down on her and the power that exuded from him. Her body was seizing under her, from the lack of oxygen reaching her lungs. He was going to kill her, and she willed him to do so. She didn't want to see him anymore; he had changed from the boy she once knew and she no longer wanted to see her pained face reflected in his cold eyes. Blocking out the part of her that was willing her to fight on Hermione closed her eyes, waiting patiently for her world to descend into obscurity.  
  
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The taste of her sweet lips was addictive, as his own searched for hers, which kept hiding from his. He pushed onto her more, wanting to stop her from struggling against him, against the desire that was ripping through his body. Suddenly he could feel the body beneath him slump, her curves no longer pushing against his own torso; instead they were unresponsive, flattening onto the bed. This wasn't her? When did Hermione Granger ever stop fighting? Using all his inner strength he tore his lips from her own bruised ones, and he threw himself off her, distancing himself from her bewitching mouth. From the foot of the bed he could hear her gasping for air, as she clawed her way back to life.  
  
He looked down at his hands, which were trembling, lust racing throughout his system. He had never lost control like that before, he was known for his cool demeanour in and out of the bedroom; ask any of his past mistresses. But only minutes before his mind had completely shutdown, and his body had taken control of all his actions; remembering encounters that had taken place in; broom cupboards, empty classrooms, forbidden bedrooms, within the walls of Hogwarts ten long years ago. It had been starved for so long of the only thing that could satisfy it, her.

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Hermione could feel his eyes on her as she began regaining her stolen breath. The numbness in her legs and body was wearing away, the weight bearing down upon them having been removed. Gradually the texture of crumpled linen below her could be felt. Her hands had gone white, gripping onto the sheets during the kiss. She felt herself falling back to reality, her soul slipping once more into her body.  
  
" You should have just finished me off. I'd rather be dead then here with you." Her words slicing through the stuffy atmosphere, which had invaded the room during their time together.  
  
" I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter, we haven't taken all that we need from you yet," came his emotionless response. She could feel the tears threatening to escape the curtain of her eyelids, and wet the pillow under her. But she didn't want to let him see her cry, again. She had lost enough tears for him. She heard him raise himself from the ground and stride towards the door. The breeze caused by his movement brushed against her stiff figure, cooling it from the passion of his kiss.  
  
"You've already taken everything from me, I've got nothing else to give," she whispered.  
  
But only she heard the confession, for he had already left.

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He clutched the banister and closed his eyes, wanting to forget everything that had happened in the bedroom. He couldn't face them with the taste of her still on his lips. Unconsciously he licked his mouth, trying to get rid of any remnants of her. However that now meant she was inside him, flowing through his veins, slowly poisoning him.  
  
" Catch up on old times?" queried a female voice from the shadows behind him. Envy apparent in her voice.  
  
He turned round, his face reverting back to its usual mask; trapping emotions behind it, ensuring that they remain hidden from the outside.  
  
" You've always been the jealous type. Strange that you don't get the same feeling for your husband, who I hear has been sampling the younger breed of Slytherins."  
  
However she looked indifferent to the comment, he wouldn't have expected any other reaction.  
  
Pansy Parkinson had grown up to be a cold, manipulative woman; her beautiful face ensnaring the wealthy and reputable Marcus Flint. Yet as she looked at the man in front of her she bitterly reflected on the fact that her beauty was never enough for the one man she coveted. She would never have the brown eyes, or the curly hair he sought after. Surprised? She was one of the few who ever knew about the affair, the one that tried so hard to hide in the shadows of Hogwarts. She had seen them once kissing in the corridor, and that night she had smashed everything on her dresser counter as the memory of his fingers running through her hair and his eyes melting, shining with warmth when they looked at her; blazed brightly in her mind. For ten years she had tried to get him to recreate that moment with her, whether it be in the confines of his bedroom or the more public settings of the various high society balls. But it had been fruitless; she would often wake up alone and cold, or she would be left in the corner of a crowded room, watching the man who never asked her to dance. She blamed him for the coldness that shrouded her heart. His constant rejections had numbed her. Marriage had seemed the only option, a desperate hope that he would finally realise that he had wanted her all along and would save her from a loveless match. However it was not to be. Now, although she hated him with every fibre of her body for the pain he had bestowed on her, she loved him as much as she always had.  
  
" Why be jealous of a man I don't love?" She watched him react to her question, another declaration of her love for him. But as ever he remained expressionless. She couldn't stand the silence, which marked one more rebuff in their relationship and so quickly she put words into the air.  
  
" Anyway its not as if I've been playing the one-man wife, as you well know."  
  
Finally a smirk. " No, I suppose you haven't. Are they waiting downstairs?" The topic of their illicit liaison dropped.  
  
" Yes."  
  
She trailed behind as he began walking confidently down the stairs, but she couldn't resist one last glance at the bedroom door that effectively imprisoned the mudblood. " What was she like?" the question, burst from her mouth before she could stop it.  
  
Draco stopped, his left foot hovering millimetres above a step. He turned around, and his eyes pierced into her. It was almost like the tips of a hundred knives were penetrating her flesh, going deeper and deeper with every second that passed. Unable to continue coping with the sensations of pain that were erupting along her skin any longer Pansy lowered her head, conceding defeat, acknowledging the fact that she would never get a reply. She remained on the stairs as he crossed the hall, the distance between them getting further and further.

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" Draco!" exclaimed the elderly lady sitting on the armchair, as her son walked through the doors of the living room.  
  
He sauntered towards her, planting a perfunctory kiss on her heavily made up cheek. His mother had not aged well; wrinkles had emerged following his father's disgraceful death in Askaban in his 6th year and had set in her previously flawless skin. At first glamours had hid the damage caused by the stress of managing the Malfoy assets and even after his coming of age and taking control of the Malfoy wealth there was still the issue of Voldemort's campaign to contend with. Now with the revival, her beauty had paid heavily, and magic spells were too time consuming and wore off too soon, thus the make up kit became part of the daily morning routine.  
  
"Ahh Draco, finally." she gazed lovingly at him, her fingers passing through his hair; hers had once been that colour but now it was nothing but dirty silver she thought regretfully. She stared up at him, and realised how proud she was of him, he had become the man that Lucius had always wanted him to be: strong, handsome, intelligent and a believer in all things pure. " How is the mudblood?" She cringed at the word, she still couldn't believe that there was one under her very roof; Lucius would be turning in his grave.  
  
" Alive." She didn't notice the slight twitch of his lips, as she mentioned the word ' mudblood'.  
  
" Oh!" came her reply, tinged with disappointment. Narcissa knew the muggle was indispensable (for the moment) but one less in the world would do no harm, however she was comforted by the thought that she could be deposed off soon enough. " Your aunt has been waiting for you. You might need to call for her, she disappeared a few seconds ago."  
  
Draco strode over to the ornate fireplace; he stared fixedly at the warm flames that licked the side of the marble. " Aunt, I am here," he declared in a loud voice. A moment later a face appeared, surrounded by the red and orange glow of the flames. The woman had not aged as much as her sister; instead, in the core of the alliance she seemed to be in her element. However, presently she looked a touch nervous, her eyes darting from one side to another, as if she was hoping to catch a glimpse of the captive.  
  
" You have her do you not?"  
  
Draco smirked at the question, as if he had ever failed a task? " Was there any doubt?" Her features instantly relaxed, and her lips curled into a cold smile.  
  
" Excellent! I shall pass the good news on to the rest of the alliance. Now you know what you have to do. Just get the answers. After, she is yours to kill any which way you want to." Instructions completed, her face vanished leaving behind what now seemed a rather boring fire.  
  
Making his way to leave Draco enquired one last thing of his mother, " Why is Pansy here?"  
  
" To keep me company." The lie was obvious to them both.  
  
" Well tell her to leave. I don't need her clinging onto my arm while I'm trying to interrogate Granger."  
  
Narcissa nodded reluctantly, the girl did tend to hang around him like a newborn puppy. But she couldn't help but be saddened by the fact that the two children had never married. It was clear that Pansy loved him, almost to the point of obsession but her son was a different story. There had been plenty of attractive pureblood women in his life, but he had never been content. Maybe he's never been in love? Well the time will come soon enough - a mother's hope.  
  
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Snatching the tray from the terrified house elf, Draco began the climb up the stairs, the tomato soup sliding dangerously from one end to the other. Icy chills were still shooting up and down his spine, the memory of Bellatrix's last words plaguing on his mind. Could he actually kill her? He had said that he could, and like always she could get under his skin, reach his soul and provoke him until he felt it necessary to restrain himself from hitting her. But saying and doing were worlds apart. For how could you kill someone who made your heart burn with such heat that you felt that you were going to explode? So many questions, but only one answer... he didn't know. The man who prided himself with his own decisiveness, self-assurance and intelligence didn't have the faintest clue. So he did what any mortal would do, and try and forget that issue. Push it back into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. He defended his actions by repeating to himself that for the moment he had more important things to take care off; and with the Gryffindor still alive in her it would not be easy.... But then how far was he prepared to go to get what he wanted, what he required? On this final question he reached the bedroom door, and as he opened it he realised that all the solutions to his problems lay behind it.  
  
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Grabbing the antique chair in front of the dresser, Hermione threw it at the window, but it bounced off, landing with a soft thump on the plush carpet. She let out a scream of exasperation, her tiny fists pounded on the unbreakable windowpane. There was no way out! She had tried everything and anything that popped into her head: picking the bedroom lock open, searching for passage- ways, trying to break the damn window. But nothing had worked! She leaned her forehead against the cold glass, cooling down the heat that her unsuccessful escape attempts had generated. Through the window she could see the Malfoy gardens laid out in front of her, in all their splendour. The rays of sunlight dancing along the waters of the majestic fountains. The bedroom door clicked open. Hermione didn't bother turning round, there was only one person it could possibly be anyway. She could see his wavy image in the glass, looking back at her, waiting for her to turn round. But he could wait forever, for Hermione wanted to stay facing the light, not wanting to confront the darkness that he envitably brought into her life. They stood like this for several minutes, gazing at each other, using the window as a medium, neither wanting to give in first.

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The soup on the tray that he held was going cold. But he didn't care; instead he remained spellbound by the translucent brown eyes staring back at him. She captivated him; her wild hair tumbling down her back, her figure draped in a shapeless robe she must have found and her face glistening with tears. She displayed a naturalness that no other woman dared to display in front of him; the rest were always so made-up and eager to please, it bored him. But she, she ........... He stopped himself from continuing, for he knew he would lose his way. He had worked so hard to get where he was, yet he still craved more power. A power that she could give him, if she broke. The Malfoy in him began to rise, crushing the feelings that fought against everything he believed in.  
  
" I brought you something to eat."  
  
She turned round and her eyes dropped to the tray and the pitiful excuse for food on it. " I didn't ask for any," came her monotone voice.  
  
" You should eat." Her eyes widen with surprise, for she didn't know he cared, before they once again narrowed in suspicion. I still have a heart Hermione. Shocked? He held the tray out in front of him, hoping she would take the hint. But her arms remained stubbornly by her side. Fine, if that's the way she wanted to play it. Whispering a spell under his breath, the offering vanished back to the kitchens; the moment of compassion passed.  
  
" Sit down." His voice business-like, they had much to discuss.  
  


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A/N I know this chapter is a lacking in the excitement department, but wanted to build the story up slowly. As ever would love it if you reviewed after reading the chapter! Long, short, mean, nice I don't care, all views are really important and let me know if you're enjoyin it or not and if I shud change anything - any plot ideas welcum! So go on, press that review button...u know u want to! Oh and just one last question do you think this is too similar to 'immortal'?  
  
For those who reviewed last time a great big, big THANX is winging its way to u throu computer land,  
  
Claferia: I'm really happy that u're startin to like the story now! Just a question thou, was it my writing style or the plot u weren't sure about at first - its just that any ideas of making this story better would be really helpful!  
  
Megan: Ta v. much! Info about the alliance, and what they want will slowly start to come out in the later chapters. I didn't want to spill everything in one chapter and errr. more importantly haven't actually decided on all the details. Sorry! Am one of those people who tend to make things up when typing, but please bear with me!  
  
Thalion1: who needs drink to pick you up after a crap day when they have your reviews? As usual u make my day! Thanx for all the support, and hope this chapter met u're approval?  
  
Mesmer: Thanx for putting a big smile on my face with all your reviews, including those for immortal! U're views are really important to me, so shout at me if my Draco becums undraco like and if I begin running my plot to the ground! Hope u've enjoyed this one!  
  
Serpent du Feu: Hope u haven't given out to your 'fustration', don't wanna lose one of my best reviewers! I'm sorry if this chapter is on the dull side, but the nxt few shall be dedicated to H and D and the tension should slowly mount up!  
  
Padsfootknightingale: Cheers! Hope u think this one was as good as the last!  
  
Mina-Chan2: Glad u're liking ! Please review again and tell me if I shud continue or throw my pen and paper away!  
  
Ok that's every1.. Cheers! Am waiting to hear from u and will update soon!


	5. Strength

Another Chance? By Cedar1 Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends belong to a v. brill lady called J K Rowling, meaning I own nuthin but an attempt at a plot. Chapter 5: Strength Previously ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* 

She captivated him; her wild hair tumbling down her back, her figure draped in a shapeless robe she must have found and her face glistening with tears. She displayed a naturalness that no other woman dared to display in front of him; the rest were always so made-up and eager to please, it bored him. But she, she ……………………………

He stopped himself from continuing, for he knew he would lose his way. He had worked so hard to get where he was, yet he still craved more power. A power that she could give him, if she broke. The Malfoy in him began to rise, crushing the feelings that fought against everything he believed in.    

" Sit down." His voice business-like, they had much to discuss. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* 

            Although the determined voice in her screamed at her to not comply with his orders, her weary body thought otherwise. Exhausted from its previous fruitless escape attempts Hermione collapsed on the dresser armchair. However she wasn't going to let Malfoy have it entirely his own way. She turned her head away from his silver eyes and towards the window, fixing her gaze on the collection of grey clouds that were fast descending upon them. She said nothing, he did the same. The first drops of rain began to fall, their tapping on the glass punctuating the silence that had settled between the past lovers. A storm was slowly brewing inside and out. 

************

            He should have expected it, of course she wasn't going to suddenly collapse on her knees and willingly give away all the secrets that he wanted. She wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she did. But there was a part of him that hoped she would just give in, like she used to do….

oooooooooooooo~Flashback 

            _She walked down the corridor, the book held in front of her face, unaware of the boy stalking behind her. He watched as she licked the tip of one finger, her lips parting and her tongue darting out. Unconsciously he repeated her actions. She paused to turn the page over, and let her eyes pass over the new text. Stealthily he came up behind her, the smell of her perfume getting stronger and stronger. Pale hands emerged from the sleeve of his black robe and in one swift motion he placed both firmly on her waist. He heard her gasp in surprise, and felt the way she jumped in his arms._

_"What are you doing?" Her eyes frantically darting around her. " Someone's going to see."  _ 

"_There's only us here, so who's going to see?" He pushed her closer towards him, so he could feel her entire back pressed against his chest. She was quivering now. _

_"But. But someone could come round the corner. You have to let go off me." Half-heartedly she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but to no avail, she was still trapped._

_"Fine!" He felt her relax_

_"I'll let go of you if.." She tensed again._

_"If you tell me the password to the head girl quarters."_

_She turned to face him her eyes widened with shock. " I can't give you the password. It's against the rules," she hissed._

_"When did we ever follow rules." He was grinning now, his silver eyes glinting mischievously. _

_" It will be worth it," he added. She looked up at him doubtful. In response he moved his hand up to her face, running his fingers over her skin, over her lips, before planting a soft kiss on them. The slight contact was able to erase all qualms in her mind. Leaning upwards she whispered it in his ear.   _

ooooooooooooooooooo~

            But things were different now; the face ignoring him wasn't wearing shy smiles or innocent eyes. That person was just a memory.

" If you want to go home, you're going to have to speak to me," spoke Draco

Speaking to the window she replied, "Like you would just let me go home. What kind of misguided idiot do you think I am?"

Draco sighed; this was going to be harder than he had thought, "You know I don't think you're an idiot. But if you keep up the silent act I might change my opinion. Answer my questions." He tried to put a bit more assertiveness in her voice. But he should have known that the moment he did that would be the same time that she would increase the intensity of her resistance. Thus he met with silence.

"Where are the auror headquarters?" No answer.

"Fine, lets go on to the next one shall we?" Frustration evident." Where are the death eater prisoners kept?" She stayed still, her lips unopened, her limbs unmoved.

"Tell me where they are Granger."

"Oh so I'm Granger again am I." She finally spoke, her eyes meeting his, her lips curled in a smirk. She had learnt some bad habits from him in their time together. 

"Don't play games…….Hermione. Just tell me what you know and you can avoid your grave for a bit longer."

"How things change. 10 years ago you were telling me how much you couldn't live without me now you're threatening me with my life. My mother always said love could kill."

"Things have changed. Now…."

"Well maybe not things. More like people really. Come to think of it, may be you never changed. Maybe you were always a cold-hearted bastard and I was too slow to realise. Were you just playing me along? Did your Slytherin buddies ask you to fuck up the Gryffindor virgin? Or perhaps it was Voldemort?"

"You know it was nothing like that."

            She shrugged and returned to her stoic state, staring vacantly out of the glass. Draco was at a lost. He had broken so many people, yet he had no idea how to get her to answer him. She was toying with him. There was an aspect of smugness to her appearance as if she knew he would not, could not carry out the threats. True he doubted himself, but for her to be so assured in his inadequacy angered him. She was the one in control, and it was not meant to be like that. He had to get out; he needed time to figure things out. Standing up he vented out his irritation by throwing his chair onto the floor. Hermione didn't even flinch in response to the noise, or even the bang of the door as he strode out.

                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            From her position in the grand entrance Pansy stared at the bedroom door that Draco had just disappeared into. If only her gaze could bore through wood, she could see what was happening, what was being said and more importantly what was being done. Was she jealous? Hell yes! Envy seeped out of every fibre of her body. He hadn't replied to her question on the stairs but she knew. She knew that there was still a part of him that belonged to that godforsaken mudblood, a part that prevented him from loving anyone else. And that made Pansy want to rip out her hair and gauge out her eyes, actually correct that; the mudblood's honey coloured ones. How did she know this? Call it women's intuition. A woman can always tell when a man is enamoured with someone else, especially if it is a man who you love. 

" Pansy, dear" Narcissa was calling for her. 

But she didn't want to move. Her eyes fixed on the door, her imagination running riot on the secrets that lay behind it. 

" Pansy" the voice had become more desperate.

But still the black haired woman remained fixed, jealous tremors shaking her stiff body. 

" Pansy!" the appeal was more of a cry now. 

            Narcissa laid a hand on the shoulder of the young woman in front of her, she had been calling for ages and finally decided to come looking for her. Pansy surprised at the sudden touch turned round abruptly, startling the older lady behind her. 

"Pansy are you alright dear?" Narcissa cast her eyes over the sculptured face in front of her, sweat glistening over the planes. She noted the look of pain in the green eyes, and then to the door that had captivated them. Ah Draco. Who else? Sometimes her son could be heartless with his words, but then they had taught him to be. 

Squeezing the shoulder Narcissa passed on some advice, " Don't waste anymore time on my son. You are married now."

The green eyes had once again resumed their usual coldness, any other emotion erased. A slytherin woman's trait thought Narcissa inwardly.

            The two women headed to the lounge, where they sat silently. That was until a loud crash broke it. Two pairs of eyes flicked to the bedroom, which was no doubt the source of the noise. Narcissa suddenly remembered her son's request, and considering what she had seen it would probably be for the best for both parties.

" Pansy. I think it would be best that you left."

The green eyes plummeted to freezing. " Did Draco ask you?"

Seeing there was no reason to lie. " Yes," Narcissa replied.

Pansy proudly got up and headed towards the door. " One more and he'll have the mudblood to himself." She muttered bitterly under her breath.

But Narcissa was not a slow woman and heard the aside, and the resentment that laced it. " What do you mean by that?"

            Pansy turned round, the blonde woman was no longer the older, advice giving mother type figure; her composure was now one of aggression and determination. The blue eyes commanding an answer. Had she done it deliberately? Pansy thought. Probably.

" Did you not know?" Pansy asked innocently, " Your precious son was quite a regular in the mudblood's bed at Hogwarts." 

Pansy watched for a few pleasurable seconds as Narcissa tried to process the information, her eyes a whirlpool of emotion; before leaving, satisfied in the knowledge that it was not only her suffering from Draco's deceit. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Draco made his way angrily down the stairs; terrified houseleves clung to the banister desperate to get out of the path of their master. He entered the living room, and continued his pacing inside, his hand running frantically through his hair. A slight creak from the darkest corner of the room caught him on edge, and he wildly turned round, wand in hand. Seeing the silver satin shoes of his mother in the shadows, he relaxed.

" I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

There was no answer.

Puzzled by his mother's strange behaviour he once again initiated the conversation.

" Mother. What's wrong?"

" Is it true?" came the quiet question. Narcissa had yet to move from her place in the dark.

"Is what true?" The annoyance in his voice apparent. His day was already bad, he didn't need cryptic questions to make it worse. 

His mother finally got up. Everything seemed normal, except for her eyes. They were blazing. Fury burnt within the ice blue, just like it had done when the news of her husbands capture had reached her ears. 

" Did you sleep with the filth upstairs?" she spat,  "Did you betray everything the Malfoy family stands for? Did you discuss how she put your father in prison and how she rejoiced when he died? Did you celebrate with your mudblood girlfriend?" With each accusation she stepped closer and closer, until their feet were touching. 

" Did you? Did you?" she screamed, spit flying onto his face. Taken over by rage, her hand flew through the air, connecting with her son's cheek. The force was enough for Draco's head to snap back. Narcissa watched the pale skin flood with redness, her breathing remained heavy, and her son had yet to deny what had been said. So it was true, she crumpled to the floor.

Draco looked down at his mother; her body was shuddering with the tears that were cascading from her eyes. He did not pity her, for when did she ever pity him when he was crying at her feet.

" Who told you?" he whispered. Obviously there was only one culprit but he needed to hear it, to confirm it.

"Pansy." 

As suspected. 

"It is true. I was young, foolish and weak there is no more to say." 

More tears ran down her face at the confession. "But……."

"There is no more to say." He added with an air of finality. 

"What about now?" she whispered.

"Now. Now there is nothing."  

"Then do you have the information?"

Draco hesitated, "Not yet."

Those two words shattered the image of the defeated woman. She rose of her feet her face livid, "Not yet! How not yet? You have been able to reduce stronger men to tears by now, but you can't break a simple girl, and you say you have no feelings for her." She dared her son to deny it. But he said nothing.

"Then prove it. Prove that you are no longer a weak, snivelling, pathetic being. Prove to me that you are your father's son. Let me see how strong you can be." 

She watched him, his face remained unexpressionless. The challenge hung in the air, waiting for him to accept it.  

And he did.

                            *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Locations! Locations, that's what he wanted all along. Hermione had been wondering while she had been wasting away in the bedroom what he wanted. The Headquarters and the prison had been moved a while back, when the rumours of the new rising had first started. Anything to prevent the risk of escapes and murders that had marked the long war against Voldemort. Well she wasn't going to say anything. He wouldn't do anything to her. He had his chance this morning when he was kissing her, but something stopped him. And just now, she saw his eyes flicker when he talked of her death……

            The bang of the bedroom door against the neighbouring wall brought Hermione crashing out of thoughts. She twirled round to see Malfoy filling the doorway. His platinum hair and silver eyes prominent in the darkness that shrouded him. Hermione began to hesitantly step back, as her heart began pounding, her blood surging through her system. She had spoken too soon, she was scared now, an aura of danger and distemper seemed to radiate from him, blinding her. His appearance released memories from parts of her brain, which she hoped she could have got rid off altogether. Their bitter parting now only seemed as if it were yesterday. 

            Without a word, he swiftly advanced towards her and aggressively seized her right wrist. Hermione could feel herself being pulled along, the carpet burning her bare feet as she tried to dig her heels into the floor, fighting the movement. But he was too strong and in a matter of seconds he was dragging her out of the door and into a dimly lit passageway. The luxurious carpet had passed to cold stone, and the burns had turned to bloody grazes. Her left hand gripped onto her right arm, pulling it, trying desperately to release it from his brutal hold. He merely tightened his fingers around her aching wrist, so much so that Hermione feared it was going to snap at any moment. The torches were becoming less frequent, the path in front of them getting narrower and narrower, opportunities for escape were slipping by. Frantic to get out of any fate he had planned for her, her free left hand made a snatch for anything that was jutting out from the stonewalls. Her fingers managed to grip onto a metal holding which was empty from a torch. He continued hauling her along until her arms and chest were at full stretch, her hold opposing his forward movement. Realising what was hindering him in his aim he viciously yanked her towards his direction. And although every cell lining her arms and chest burnt with pain she refused to let go. 

" NO! I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" she screamed. Her voice echoed in the previously quiet corridor. Her refusal repeated over and over again. 

   But despite this Draco took no heed to her declaration, " You will go wherever I want you to go. You will do whatever I want you to do. And you will tell me whatever I want you to." Unexpectedly he let go off her restrained hand, but gave Hermione only a few seconds to enjoy the bliss of painless free sensations for he now clamped his arms around her waist. His muscles and bones dug into her abdomen, pushing up into her ribcage. Hermione felt as if her heart was going to shoot up into her throat, and she would end up choking on it. 

            He lifted her legs up of the ground, and with a sharp upwards motion was able to wretch her fingers from their hold. Carry a kicking and screaming Hermione he continued his way down to the cells. Their walls had confined many traitors to their cause, and this would be like any other time Draco thought to himself. Hermione was a traitor through and through, her resistance disrupted all of their plans for revenge and as so she deserved this. He didn't know why he was trying to justify his actions to himself; maybe it was her screams of unabandoned terror that were ringing his eardrums that prompted his musings. Upon reaching the desired chamber he threw the angry figure onto the floor. She landed with an excruciating thump. She slowly raised her head; curls damp with sweat stuck to her face, her mouth tilted to give an angry scowl and her eyes burning – anger taking the place of fear. 

   " You think this is gonna make me tell you anything you bastard?" Although the question was whispered, the statement deafened Draco. She had answered the question that had been plaguing him when he first went to interrogate her. He would have to go this far and beyond to get what he needed, and so he responded to her query.

   " I've not done anything yet Hermione. This is only the beginning."

                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*         

A/N again a bit of a slow chap – quite abit more dialogue than norm - , just tryin to build up the tension. If you've read this please review and let me know what you think, any thoughts are received with open arms, flames (tell me what I can do to improve it) and non-flames alike. So go on Pleeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase!!!

Thanx for all who reviewed last time 

Mesmer, Thalion1, Gypsy*, Serpent du Feu and Mina- Chan 2


	6. A blending of memories and reality Part ...

**Another Chance?****  
****  
By Cedar1**  
  
A/N am a bit scared that this chapter will seem really muddled and make no sense whatso ever. So hope you guys are up for a challenge!. So good luck!!  
  
Disclaimer: Nah! Own nufing but a plot.  
  
**Chapter 6: A Blending of Memories and Reality (Part I)**

**Previously   
  
** " You think this is gonna make me tell you anything you bastard?" Although the question was whispered, the statement deafened Draco. She had answered the question that had been plaguing him when he first went to interrogate her. He would have to go this far and beyond to get what he needed, and so he responded to her query.  
  
" I've not done anything yet Hermione. This is only the beginning." 

**Chapter 6: A Blending of Memories and Reality (Part I)  
  
**The pale hand went flying through the air, and a resounding slap landed on her cheek. Bells began ringing in her ears. So much so that she only heard his strong voice as a muffled whisper.  
  
"Come on Granger, don't be a fool. Tell me where the headquarters are?"  
  
Another slap. This time on the other cheek.  
  
"Tell me Granger."

00000000000000000000000 FLASHBACK _"Tell me Granger. What the fuck did you think you were doing?"  
  
Hermione couldn't help but hide her shock as the words left his mouth. He had actually spoken to her! Ever since the imprisonment of his father in the 5th year Malfoy had taken to ignoring her as well as Harry and Ron. Personally Hermione could see the logic behind his actions, they were after all the cause of it, and at first she had fully enjoyed the treatment. No scornful asides in the hallway, no ruining of potions and no smug laughter from behind them. Golden silence was their's. That was until the end of 6th year, when the elder Malfoy had died and the silence had deviated into much darker territory. One month into their final year and Hermione was getting used to the prickling feeling of a pair of eyes focusing on her. In the beginning she would meet his gaze dead on, not afraid of him. The icy depths would give away nothing, remaining hard against her own stare. However the longer the battle lasted the greater the intensity of the unnatural shivers running up and down her spine became, in the end she had to look away, not being able to withstand the ever-growing coldness that was shrouding her. And at that precise moment, in the corner of her eye she caught the smug- all knowing smirk adorned on his face. It angered her to think that he was so assured in his ability to make her so uncomfortable that she continued meeting his gaze. But the outcome always remained the same. So now she simply tried to blank out the stares, thickening a barrier around her, so they could not penetrate into her and see all her secrets within.  
  
However just because he had suddenly decided to speak to her wasn't going to mean that she would jump up and talk to him, so she ignored him - let him see what it feels like. Instead she concentrated on the task at hand; and despite her inner reserve she couldn't help but increase the ferocity of her rubbing, anything to vent out the anger that was building up within her. Stuck with Malfoy all night, surrounded by ruddy broomsticks, she was in hell.  
  
"I asked you to tell me mudblood what the fuck you thought you were doing?" he said again, repeating the question.  
  
Malfoy was pissed off and it was the frizzy haired bitch in front of him that had ruined everything, his life included. It had been four months since his father's death, and the period after had seen Draco spiralling from childhood to manhood. His mother had overtaken the controlling of the various Malfoy assets, but this only added extra responsibilities to her already full schedule. Being the dutiful son Draco was ordered to take some share of the responsibility. And so the summer months had not been spent squandering away moments flying high over the estate on his beloved broom; but had seen him locked away in darkened studies toiling over accounts and politics- making sure himself and his mother were not deemed to the same fate. He blamed her and her friends for his premature descent into adulthood, but most of all he detested the role they had played in tainting his memory of his father. Lucius Malfoy may have been a harsh father, strict with rules and punishments but at the same time he embodied everything Draco wanted to be; powerful, respected. The year in Azkaban had reduced him to nothing, but a nervous, twitching man who hid in the shadows when his adoring wife and son visited him. In front of him Draco would only see large, scared blue eyes; which were clouded with either fear or insanity, it wasn't much of a choice. Gone was the piercing gaze, all that remained was a shell of a man who used to be feared; and it was this final image that was fixed in his head, haunting him day and night.  
  
And it was all her fault.  
  
He tore his eyes of the broom in his hands and stared at the mudblood in the corner of the room. The moment his eyes rested on her back he could immediately see her stiffen, her shoulders tensing with trepidation. A feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed him; just like it had done the dozens of time she had broken eye contact with him. At first Draco had chosen to ignore the trio, for seeing them immediately recalled images of his decaying father. But his death had sparked the need for revenge that had been lying dormant within him. He was going to take it slow, Lucius always advocated carefully laid out plans and attacks; speed meant nothing it was the outcome that mattered. So he began staring at them, in particular the mudblood - start with the easiest. Wearing them down, wanting them to know he was always there watching them, ready in the wings waiting for the right moment before...  
  
"I'm not going to tell you anything," her stubborn declaration knifed through his thoughts.  
_

000000000000000000000 END FLASHBACK

" I'm not going to tell you anything."  
  
He just about heard her murmur the statement. He brought himself closer to her, but she did not react. He then grabbed a handful of hair in his hand, and yanked it back. Her head jerked backwards, her neck stretched to its limit, the muscles taut with the tension. Despite the strain she did not even utter a word of pain. Looking into her eyes, he saw fixed, dilated pupils. Hermione was in front of him, but at the same time was in a world far from reality. 

000000000000000000000 FLASHBACK

_Hermione now found herself being forced against the broom rack, his hands deep within her mass of curls, forcefully pulling her head downwards. He had come upon her so swiftly she had little time to react, and now all she could feel was pain. The digging of the wooden rack against the small of her back coupled with the feeling that her hair was about to be shredded from her scalp; was enough to make her eyes smart and for burning tears to start rolling down her cheeks.  
  
"Is the mudblood Gryffindor crying?" came his mocking voice from above.  
  
The tilt of her head meant she was forced to look up at him, her eyes transfixed on his own glinting silver orbs. He had bent down, closing the distance between them; so now all she could see was her reflection displayed in cold hard silver.  
  
" I asked you a question, mudblood. What the fuck did you think you were doing?" His hot, angry breath burned her skin as it wafted over it.  
  
It had all been a matter of justice on Hermione's part. She had seen Malfoy playing the bully with some first year Gryffindors, levitating their bags in the air beyond their reach. Without thinking she had sent a curse flying in his direction. The spell had been strong enough to knock a grown man off their feet, all it would seem apart from Malfoy who merely stuttered backwards. Surprised by his resistance she had not seen him pointing his wand at her, but she felt the consequence as she had found herself hurtling through the air, her body smashing onto the wall. Aching and dizzy, she lay bruised at his feet. His wand aiming once more in her direction, a look of pure delight on his face. Fortunately or what now seemed unfortunately Professor Mc Gonagall had rounded the corner, alerted by the Gryffindor's, and prevented the scene from being played out any more. Thus Hermione had been placed on detention cleaning brooms, and was now trapped in the clutches of the one boy who would have most likely killed her. The situation was less than promising. But despite this Hermione's basic want to show Malfoy she was not going to be any easy kill took over her.  
  
" If you weren't being such a mindless prat I wouldn't have done anything," the words strangled from her throat.  
  
" So it's my fault is it?"  
  
" Everything's your fault."  
  
Her statement brought him tumbling into the past, the figure of his trembling mother at his side, as they together they stood in front of the grave. Draco could not take it any longer and he pleaded with her that they should leave. She had turned round, the black veil sticking to the damp tear-stained face, " It's your fault you know. It was your weakness, your inability to keep the others from getting to the ministry that led to this." With that she had left leaving the burden of guilt resting heavily on his shoulders. That had been the only time she had said that but in had stuck. Maybe his obsession with Potter and his friends was his way of denying his involvement in his father's death, passing the blame onto others. But no matter the reason it was there, lightening his load.  
  
" My fault. Everything is my fault. You ruined my life mudblood. You, Potter, Weasley and all your friends. It's your fault that my father is dead, lying cold under 6 feet of dirt. It's your fault my mother wanders around the house at night, kept awake by loneliness. It's your fault my life is a misery." He was roaring now, his grip tightening on her hair, his eyes sparkling with hatred. He stepped further in, pushing the air that separated them out. Nothing detached them; their robes pressed flat against one another, their bodies melding into one form. Hermione was scared. She could feel herself drowning in the aura of loathing that surrounded him, and was slowly starting to suffocate her. He brought his lips nearer to hers. Her breath caught in her throat, she could almost taste the bitterness that was exuding from him.  
  
" And just watch as I ruin yours."  
  
Hermione closed her eyes expecting to be met with explosive pain as he cursed her, but instead her eyes flew open as he landed his lips fleetingly on to hers. The contact was soft and rapid, and Hermione couldn't shrug off the feeling that she had imagined the whole thing.  
_  
0000000000000000000 END FLASHBACK  
  
Memories and reality combining the two Draco's relieved their grasp and moved away from the girl, who collapsed onto the floor.  
  
--------------------------  
  
The blood was boiling within him. She was driving him crazy, as well as herself. She kept mumbling under her breath. Her chapped lips opening every so often, words escaping together with a puff of warm air that misted in the cold atmosphere of the cell. She was now on the floor, curled up in the foetal position, her knees pressed against her grazed elbows. The brown hair, knotty and flattened by grease was blanketing half of her features. He had left her here for three weeks now, with only a houseelf coming to see her to deliver the food. He had needed time; minutes, hours, days, weeks to plan what he was going to do, and to blank out the past that they had shared. His mother's constant reminders of Malfoy pride and beliefs, together with the alliance's continual demand for information had been enough to squash those memories down, flatten them until they were on the verge of being non-existing. But nevertheless they were still present. Still causing the jolt of electricity in his heart every time he hit her. One such jolt was ignited when he saw the solitary tear that travelled down her face.  
  
Kneeling down, he brought himself closer to her level; not noticing the fact that his robes were picking up the dirt and muck that coated the stone floor. Gently he brought his hand to her face, and hesitantly he moved away the curtain of brown hair. With the pad of his thumb he wiped the tear across her cheek, the wetness cooling down her scorched skin. Not relinquishing the contact he allowed his gaze to rove around her face. The cheeks had been stained a vicious red, heavy black bags underlined her eyes, which were at the moment closed, the skin of her eyelids bunched up with unreleased tension.  
  
"Hermione I need you to get up," he whispered, hoping she could hear him. To his surprise her body unfurled itself ever so slightly. He looked up at her face expectantly, praying she had regained consciousness. He watched as the lids of her eyes relaxed, and the gradual rise of her lips into a shy smile.  
  
" I love waking up next to you," she uttered. Next to her Draco froze, completely floored by her comment.  
  


* * *

A/N Yay! U've made it throu! Did it make sense? Review and let me know! With last chapter's taster I thought I had better go into more depth with what happened in the past, and there should be more to come! Just wondering with the events in the past does it seem believable- ie. I haven't completely altered the characters have I? Oh and once more please review and let me know what u thought, don't even mind the mean ones but nice ones are always welcum as well!  
  
A wee note 4 those beautiful people who reviewed last time:  
  
Thalion1: Now don't wanna get to the actiony bits to soon, if I did it all in one go how wud I b able to keep u reading laughs evily But just for u put a smidgeon in!  
  
Serpent Du Feu: and the torture keeps on cumin!  
  
Mesmer: quickish update, was proud of myself - as u can c am easily pleased! Their past is slowly cumin out, didn't want Draco do be fluffy straight away thou so he's quite mean in this chap. Did their relationship seem right?  
  
Catherine: U're review was really lovely, made me have a really big smile for the rest of the day! Please keep reading and letting me know what u thought. Oh and I hope u got the email letting u know that I updated. Thought it mite b easier then having to keep checking, cos I know what a darn pain that is! Do u want me to keep doin it 4 the other chapters? 


	7. A blending of memories and reality Part ...

**Another Chance?**

**By Cedar1**

Disclaimer: Santa has yet to deliver, cos I still own nothing apart from a plot, but give me a few more weeks and you never know?

A/N to make things easier the past is in italics and the present in normal text- yes have finally figured out the whole web page saving thing after several months and chapters. No wonder my friends call me dozy numnut!

**Chapter 7****: A Blending of Memories and Reality (Part II)**

**Previously~~~~~~~~~~~***

_  
"Hermione I need you to get up," he whispered, hoping she could hear him. To his surprise her body unfurled itself ever so slightly. He looked up at her face expectantly, praying she had regained consciousness. He watched as the lids of her eyes relaxed, and the gradual rise of her lips into a shy smile.  
  
" I love waking up next to you," she uttered. Next to her Draco froze, completely floored by her comment.  
  
_**__**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

****************start flashback

            " Hermione I need you to get up."

In her haziness of sleep she could vaguely feel the light touch of fingers grazing against her skin. She turned slightly pushing herself against him, revelling in the way the coolness of his skin produced shivers up her body. 

"I love waking up with you."

He didn't answer but in her minds eye she could almost envisage the smirk that was tilting his lips. She turned round to face him; the sheets tightening further round her naked flesh. She was right. He was sitting up, his back pressed against the headboard, his upper half exposed to the warmth in the room that the two of them had exuded during the night. Silver eyes looked down upon her. She could practically feel herself melting under the gaze. If eyes could smirk she was sure that his were doing just that, amused at the reaction a single look from him could produce, and from a stubborn Gryffindor no less. She crooked her neck so her face was buried somewhere near his hip, ashamed of the weakness he created in her.

            The smell of his soap surrounded her. She had grown familiar to the sweet scent, often thinking how unlike him it was. Sweetness was definitely not a word that she associated with Draco Malfoy. Sharp, addictive, at times bitter but more often then not quickly dissolving.

            As if reading her thoughts she felt the body next to her move as he lifted the sheets of his body and climbed out off the bed. She watched as he moved around her room, picking up his clothes that she had cautiously removed the night before. Modesty meant her eyes never strayed below his neck, despite the fact that his naked form was frequently pressed up against her so tight that not even air could get between them. Instead she focussed on his face, a picture of indifference bordered by a frame of long, fine strands of platinum. No one would ever have guessed that he had indulged himself in the ritual of pleasure that had been set up in the last months only hours ago. A feeling of emptiness creeping through her Hermione couldn't resist herself.

" Why do you have to go? Can't you stay?"

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing at the request.

Hermione already felt stupid. " I know. I know," she sighed in exasperation. " But I'm only asking for another hour. It's Saturday." It was useless; he was already approaching the door.

"What am I to you?" she whispered to herself. He always left her each time, never giving her more time with him than normal. Was she nothing but a plaything to him? Outside closed doors and darkened corridors he didn't look at her or heaven forbid touch her. To everyone their relationship was the same as it had always been; one of silent hatred. At first she had understood the need for secrecy and had been as cautious as he was, ears ever pricked for the sound of approaching individuals. Now…now she wanted more. She wanted to be able to walk by him in corridors without shocked looks, without whispers behind their backs. She wanted a proper relationship. However he was less then reluctant to push that one step further, but then maybe he didn't want to.

She looked up towards the door expecting to be greeting with the sight of her small study, any evidence of his stay gone. But she was surprised to see him still standing there. His hand frozen on the doorknob. He had heard.

"We can't be anything more then we are Hermione," he spoke, confirming her worst fears. He didn't want more. 

Despite her best efforts a film of tears began to coat her eyes, blurring her vision. He was disappearing in front of her. Hastily she rubbed her eyes not wanting to lose sight of him. Tears wiped onto her face she looked back up. But he was already gone. 

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*end flashback

            His fingers had been rendered immobile by her words, his mind numb from the sentiments. It wasn't that he had never heard her gentle voice say that, on contrary he had heard it so often; it was just that he hadn't heard it for so long. His legs gave way under him, and he collapsed onto the floor. Leaning back against the stonewall he gained the support he required. He stared back at the woman curled up at his feet; tears were now flowing freely down her face. He had reduced her to that so many times he had lost count. Give or take twelve years ago the idea of her crying would have had feelings of joy bursting every cell in his body. Tired by her side he realised how much things could change.

            After that detention they shared cleaning broomsticks his attentions to her went beyond the realms of just staring. He had begun sabotaging her experiments, watching from dark corners of the dungeon as her cauldron began to overflow with a potion, which was far from the appropriate colour, the bubbles popping angrily threatening to explode at any moment. By the side would be Hermione her eyebrows knitted with confusion, her eyes darting to her notes desperate to see where she had gone wrong. Of course Snape would be gleefully telling the rest of the class what she had done wrong to cause yet another disaster, and would place her on detention to redo the potion. And there he was in the corner, it seemed so petty now, but then it had been a huge victory against Potter and his friends. The same thing happened each lesson; he was getting more inventive with the ways he ruined her work, never getting caught. But as the days went past he grew increasingly aware of her accusing gaze in his direction after each failure. She didn't say anything, not to Snape – why would he believe her- or her friends. He realised it was pride, the need for her to solve the problem by herself- well Draco had no complaints, let her do what she wanted. 

            Well he had the work part of her life, the next target were her friends. And so the damaging rumours started, whispered from ear to ear, from house to house and who would be at the beginning of the chain but him. Topics ranged from her uncomfortable feelings to Ron's ever-growing affections, Ginny's inability to get her own friends and the list went on. Of course she would explain to her friends they were all lies and needless to say they believed her, yet there was still that phase where she was left alone, her friends giving excuses to not be with her. It was during this time that she would hibernate in the library away from prying eyes, but it was also the time that he would visit her, gloating on his deeds. 

But then one day, everything changed….

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*Start Flashback

            A seventeen-year-old Draco sauntered down the corridor, the tune of ' Weasley is our king' being hummed from his lips, which were actually curled to give a smile. Smug though it may be it was still a smile, and it caused those he passed to furrow their brows in confusion. Draco Malfoy smiling. They hadn't seen that since fifth year. No doubt he had been torturing some poor soul. And as he commenced onto the library he reflected on how right they were. His boots clicked as they connected with the floor, providing a rhythm for the words that were whirling around his head again and again like a merry-go-round. 

" Did you hear the mudblood's been suspended from her Head-Girl duties," Pansy Parkinson had declared at dinner, her cheeks flushed with excitement. That had been the exact moment that Draco Malfoy had expressed a genuine smile of pleasure in two years. 

Making his way down the aisles of dusty bookshelves his smile only became bigger. Now for the best bit; rubbing her nose in it, letting her know he was the cause of all the misery she was feeling. Unfortunately it wouldn't last long Dumbledore would no doubt find some inexplicable reason to drop Snape's accusation, the smile faltered. But as he rounded the corner and saw her petite figure hunched over the table it was back to its full glory. However on the other hand might as well enjoy the situation while it lasts.

            Sensing his presence she looked up. And he noted with satisfaction that her brown eyes were now an ugly red. She looked back down again.

" What? No angry words. No ' Malfoy you bastard'." He walked towards her, settling himself on the chair next to her. A curtain of busy hair- she had forgotten to brush it again- was blocking his view, but he could see her body shaking. He moved the mess away with one sweep of his hand. Beautiful; down to the chapped lips from anxious biting and the raw red eyes. In his mind Draco couldn't help but give himself a self-congratulately pat on the back. 

" How did you do it?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving the pages of the book laid down in front of her. 

Draco leaned back on the chair, lifting it off the ground; his fingers drawing lazy patterns on her back. He always enjoyed the way she instantly stiffened every time he touched her. 

" That would be telling. And where's the fun in that?" In truth it had been difficult to alter her answers to his after they handed the papers in. But he had and Snape had predictably concluded that she had copied off his star pupil and in a fit of anger had stormed into Dumbledore's office demanding she be stripped of her title. He of course merely suspended her……

" You know Dumbledore knows I would never do that. You know I'll get re-instated."

She flinched slightly when he brought his chair crashing back to the floor, the thud vibrating through the empty aisles. He moved himself closer to her, his face nearing hers, his lips centimetres from her ear. " You might be right. But it doesn't matter, now you know that I can do more to you then spread rumours and tamper experiments. I'm going to bring you down step…" He closed in further, "…by step, by step."

            He lingered by her ear, making sure she understood all that he had said. Satisfied that she indeed had, he was just about to pull back when she surprised him. She turned round abruptly, the gap between them now being too close for comfort. They were face to face. So close he could feel the warm breath escaping from her lips graze against his own. Sad eyes had given way to burning brown ones, and remained hard against his own stare. They stayed like that, unblinking, neither wanting to give in. Until a bang from the other side of the library distracted Hermione and she reactively jerked forwards. However her reflex movement propelled her lips onto his. Her eyes widened with shock, as had his. Wasn't he or hell wasn't she meant to be pulling away somewhere about now? But neither had. They maintained their connection, tasting each other; her sweetness and his bitterness assimilating to give a lethal combination that no one wanted to separate themselves from.

            His blood began to buzz with the flavour of her and despite his better judgement he felt himself craving more. He pushed onto her harder, and began to move along her lips, exploring the dips and curves it presented. She didn't resist, responding tentatively to his actions. Brushing his tongue against her lip, the sudden wet caress caused her to part her lips in astonishment. Seeing his chance he entered, the desire to see if she was as sweet everywhere taking over him, driving him to move forth and discover everything she had to offer. And she didn't disappoint. Several minutes crept by, it wasn't until the need for air was becoming a necessity did the two split. Breaths came out of bruised lips as heavy gasps. 

"I still hate you," he murmured, she nodded in agreement.  

**************

            And they continued hating each other after curfew in abandoned classrooms, on Saturdays in an empty library and in broom cupboards of silent corridors. Every night he returned back to his room determined to stop. She was still a mudblood, still his father's murderer but she was also still the drug that ran through his veins, the drug that got his body crying for more. He stopped looking in mirrors after their trysts, disgusted with his image of swollen lips, flushed cheeks, tousled hair and crumpled robes. Once they had descended down the pathway of sharing the same bed he would always leave early, heading straight to the bathroom, scrubbing his skin raw until any remnants of her had pooled down at his feet and had swirled down the plug hole. 

            But each time they kissed, their fingers tangling in hair, their hands exploring one another the emotion of hate decreased that one notch further. And as the months passed his cleansing routine had deteriorated into nothingness. Instead he would spend longer and longer pressed against her under wrinkled sheets, heating himself with the warmth she seemed to be forever radiating from her small body. They would face each other, his fingers caressing her beautiful lips, the moonlight followed by the first rays of the sun shining upon them. This was enough for him. Those moments of being with each other, forgetting who they were and all the reasons why this shouldn't be happening. But then she had begun trying to push it, yearning for more then he was willing to give. There was no way he could go public with this. He would be shunned; out- casted from all the slytherins, all respected society and god only knew what his mother would say. There was only one path laid down for his future and that was the same one walked by his father. And he wasn't scared or doubtful of the possibility; on the contrary it was the only certainty in his life. Hermione Granger was just a bump in the road, something he could enjoy for now but not something he could keep for the rest of his life. He wasn't naïve enough to believe a happy ending with her lay in the cards. And so he had meant what he said when he told her that they could not be more then they were. 

            However at the same time when he saw her eyes glisten with tears he instantly wanted to take it back and tell her he was lying. It was this fact that had scared him, that had caused him to hastily run out of her room into the hallway. The fact that triggered his heart to beat faster and faster all the way to his dorm. The sight that had led him to throw his fellow peers out of the room and toss random items from one end to another, anything to get rid off the feelings of confusion that were flooding him. He had been so sure of the situation, that what he felt for her was nothing more then a couple of centimetres deep; and not something that could reach within him and pull on the muscles of his heart so much so that he felt that it would be torn to shreds. During the following days he dismissed her, although this was normal during school hours he kept the act going through out the night. It was in those hours that images of her lying in her bed waiting for him kept him awake, just like she was. 

He thought that if he could get through this stage he would be cured of her, but it didn't work like that. Instead he found himself thinking of her, the taste of her, her voice, and her eyes; in lessons, at the dining table, in the library, in bed. There was no escape, and the resistance soon crumbled. They were sitting down at a prefects meeting; Potter and Hermione placed at the head table in their respective Head boy, Head girl positions. Draco had sat by her side – though not by choice, as he had arrived late and it had been the only seat remaining. As if to make clear his distain, to both her and the rest he had made a show of shifting the chair a couple of inches away from her own. Yet throughout the meeting his eyes were being drawn to the figure by his side as if by invisible strings, in particular her hands, which were clasped together, resting on her lap. Without hesitation he had slowly moved his hand under the table, through the space that separated them. She had realised what he was up to and he could almost hear the noise made by her breath trapping in her throat as she waited to see what he would end up doing. For what seemed like eternity his hand finally reached both of hers, landing lightly on them. She moved her fingers so they were now interlaced with his. No extra pressure was applied; they just remained there, hidden, entwined in one another. A small smile was gracing her lips she knew like he did, she did mean something to him and maybe he wasn't prepared to come out into the public for the moment, or maybe forever. But she meant something to him and for now that would do.   

End Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N did the story flow alrite? Is it really predictable? Am a bit scared that it is turning a bit clichéd? Argh!! Please review if u've read this, and tell me what u think. So many questions…. As always send me anything whether its horrible or lovely, get very excited when it says my inbox has received something instead of ' 0 messages' – v. depressing!! So go on put a smile on my face…

Oh and if I don't update before xmas hope u all have a gud one and a happy new year!!

Luv Cedar1

Ps: Big hugs and sparkly stars to those who reviewed last time; 

Mesmer:  please don't shout at me I know its rather short, again, but it seemed like a good place to end. I promise the next chapter will be longer. But it was a quickish update, does that make up for the lack of words?! * crossing fingers *

Thalion1: yay! Found sumbody else who does weird clapping thing when happy! My friends always take the piss out of me 4 doin it!! All I can say is ha to them!

Mina –Chan2: Will do!!

Catherine: more old times 2 cum, am havin a bit of fun tryin to figure out ways 4 them to part….hmmmm. but glad ure enjoyin it and promise not 2 back out, am actually determined to finish it and kind of have an ending in mind, but my lips r sealed on that one! * laughs evily*

Serpent du Feu : hope u're question has been answered!

 Thaurtiliel : new reviewer!!Yay! Please keep reviewing!


	8. Surprises, Accusations and Changes

**Another Chance?**

By Cedar1 

A/N ok first of all would like to say sorry for my shameful descent in2 fluffiness in the last chap * give myself a slap on the wrist * and although a fluffy bunny will once again shed all his hair on my computer * nother slap on wrist * I promise there will be a few attempts at original twists and turns to come, and not all will continue being happy-clappy! Yay!! ( so if ure xpectin a fluff filled story sorry!) But on with chap 8 hope u like it……

Disclaimer: Course I own nothing but attempts at a plot you crazy nutters!!

**Chapter 8:**** Surprises, Accusations and Changes**

****

Previously~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* 

A small smile was gracing her lips she knew like he did, she did mean something to him and maybe he wasn't prepared to come out into the public for the moment, or maybe forever. But she meant something to him and for now that would do. ****

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

            Ginny Weasley scraped her hair back in a haphazard ponytail, wild red hair sticking up in the oddest of places. But in comparison to her face her hair looked somewhat normal. She hadn't slept in weeks, all of them hadn't. Her blue eyes had dulled, underlined with heavy black bags and surrounded with pale, flaky skin. When had she last put cream or for that matter combed her hair? She couldn't remember and frankly she didn't care. She had lost one of her closest friends, her best friend. Ginny checked herself. She hadn't lost Hermione, merely misplaced her. She found that she was regularly doing that; talking about Hermione in past tense as if she had already descended up into heaven. And the pessimist in her believed that was the case. There was no way death eaters would keep her alive after they got what they wanted. But then the eternal optimist in her would argue there was always hope, always a chance. What would life be if it weren't made up of chances?

            Pulling a wrinkled robe over her head she headed downstairs. They were still there; in the exact places she had left them last night. Their slumped figures looked even smaller when compared to the larger than normal Weasley dining table they were sitting at. In time-honoured fashion she took her place opposite them. Harry's dark head raised up, giving her a weak smile and a nod of ' good morning.' On the other hand Ron remained in his stoic state, his vacant eyes trained on the door. As if he were expecting Hermione to burst through it at any moment. Ginny found herself looking at the same spot. And so they sat, waiting. But as usual nothing happened, the door remained shut, unmoved. 

" Have you heard anything yet?" A trace of hopefulness in her voice. 

Ron didn't answer, so Harry did. " No." 

Once more a heavy silence smothered them, filling their mouths and lungs. Words seemed impossible. 

            Ginny couldn't stand it any longer, it was choking her; the silence, the fear. 

"We can't just keep sitting here, waiting for a body to turn up. Hermione wouldn't do that if it were one of us that had gone missing. She would be searching for us, getting answers not hanging around, waiting!" She was screaming now, leaning over them, her palms flat on the table. "Stop looking so defeated, Voldemort never managed to, why should a couple of death eaters be able to?" She glared at the two boys in front of her, their heads bent down with shame that her accusations had instilled. 

" But……" muttered Ron, but Ginny cut him off before he could give some statement regarding the hopelessness of the situation.

" But nothing Ronald Weasley!" shouted Ginny, reminiscent of her mother. "Do you want to get Hermione back or not? Do you want her dead?"

Ron's head snapped upwards, his face glowing red with anger. " Don't you dare say that! You know how I feel about Hermione!" he roared in her face. Ginny did know, so did Harry and everyone else, apart it would seem Hermione but that didn't mean she was going to back down. Ginny Weasley never gave up in an argument.

" It doesn't look like that where I'm standing!" Her blue eyes burning into those of her brother's. 

Fury coursing through him, Ron couldn't control the hand that went flying through the air straight towards his sister's cheek. Inches away from striking a hand grabbed hold of his wrist. Turning around Ron saw Harry's horrified face. The arm instantly dropped dead by his side; the fingers trembling with the shock of his intentions. He sat back down, as did she. 

"Ginny's right we need to be doing something," said Harry, " I'm going to go to the ministry, you both do what you want to do." He got up, grabbing his robes by the side of him, Ginny made her actions clear by following him to the door; only Ron remained at the table. 

"Ron?" questioned Harry, his face filled with expectancy, looking at the back of his best friend.

" What's the point? We know where she is?" Ron was met with silence.

" Where else, Malfoy's."

" Ron you don't know that for sure. We don't even know if he is a death eater. We have nothing secure on him, only accusations, no proof."

" Whatever.."

Harry couldn't stand this attitude's of Ron's, as if he didn't care; and although his next sentence just slipped out there was a part of him that was satisfied in the knowledge that it would hurt him. 

" Just because he had something you could never have." There was no reaction from Ron. Harry gave up, slamming the door on his way out with Ginny following in his wake. 

" A man like that can never change," whispered Ron to no one but himself.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*Start Flashback

            Ron pounded his way up the staircase, the slap of his shoes echoing in the hallway. With his long limbs he was able to take two steps at a time, leaving Harry and Ginny further and further behind.

"Slow down young fellow!!" yelled a portly lady in one of the grand portraits that hung above the banister. Ron turned round, his big grin was infectious and the lady found herself unconsciously returning the smile, forgetting about her previous warning. He was just so happy! Dumbledore had just announced that all 7th years would have the day off. Hogsmeade here I come! Work had slowly been piling up, potions was getting worse and worse, charms was something that was no longer mentioned in his presence. All in all it had been a pretty shite month. But a day of buttterbeers and Honeydukes sweets would no doubt lead to an instant lift in his spirits. Of course not everyone was happy. Ron looked round to see his sister's mouth in constant motion with Harry nodding patiently by her. Frankly Ron didn't know why he put up with it. He would have just called her a spoilt brat. Actually he did. That's why she was in a huff with him and had gone to Harry for his support on the unfairness of the situation. But that didn't matter. Why? Cos he was going to Hogsmede. So what if he was acting like a little kid! He bloody deserved it!!

            All they needed to do now was to find Hermione and tell her the good news. It was easy enough to guess that she was still in her room; like she had been for the past couple of weeks. Her presence at breakfast was rare, and if she did come down it was a mad dash in and then out, the excuse of work trailing behind her retreating figure. Reaching her portrait Ron was about to holler her name – being a stickler for the rules she has refused to give him the password- but then he noticed the curled up corner. With a bit of force he was able to lift it up, without even waking the nymph that occupied it. She was going to get the surprise of her life. His head filling with images of a shocked Hermione he did not see the black robe emblazoned with the Slytherin emblem folded neatly on the chair, as he tip-toed across her study. She must be working in her bedroom he deduced. Slowly he pushed open the already slightly a jarred door. As the insides gradually became known to him, he was surprised to see a pair of feet sticking out of crumpled bed sheets. A small smile fell on his lips, ' so even a headgirl over slept.' Slowly closing the door, his plan to leave her be was halted when he noticed a head of light blonde peaking from under the covers. He stared at it, hatred flowing freely from his eyes to the fine hairs, down to the figure that seemed to be entwined with Hermione's own hidden form. His heart was thumping, his mouth dry, his stomach cramping within him. This wasn't right. This wasn't Hermione. 

This wasn't what it was meant to be like. He was meant to be there, not someone else. Not someone else. Fixed on the scene in front of him, he found his feet planted to the floor despite the feeling of sickness and bile that was slowly creeping up his throat. It was only when he heard the approaching footsteps of Ginny and Harry did he flee. Rushing to the portrait, before they started yelling, alerting the lovers to his presence. Pulling the portrait back he quickly slammed it behind him. His sister and friend looked with surprise at his ashen face. 

" What's wrong?" asked Harry. 

" Nothing. Hermione's sleeping," the words streamed out of him in a rapid flow. " I think I'm staying in the castle today. You guys go." He was blind to their puzzled looks as he hurriedly made his way down the corridor, the sight he saw before leaving Hermione's study emblazed in his head, on his heart; tearing them apart. 

The robe branded with the snake.

***************** 

            The hours turned to days, and bit-by-bit the knowledge of her betrayal was killing him from the inside out. Each time she spoke to him, he forced friendly conversation out ; while the picture of her and him imprinted on his soul. He told no one. He wanted to believe she was innocent and so he had kept quiet. Watching her in classrooms and corridors, needing further evidence of her treachery; as if what he had seen before was merely fiction, a figment of his imagination. But it was not to be. He caught their looks, the silent conversations with their eyes, even a couple of cautious touches. And every time he noticed such things, there was another pair of eyes with him. One day his gaze flicked away from the lovers to his own counter part, her green eyes reflecting the hurt that his own held. They never spoke of their findings or feelings to each other, a Parkinson would never talk willingly to a Weasley. But instead they formed an unspoken partnership, seeking solace with the fact that another was suffering. And so those moments of catching Hermione and Malfoy in their lie, were made less lonely.

******************

            The days turned into weeks, and still Ron had said nothing.             Saying it aloud meant it was true and Ron was still in his state of denial. His behaviour had become more withdrawn, especially with Hermione. He avoided her, compelling himself to look away from her direction. He eyes couldn't take any more confirmations of his accusations. She had noticed his odd actions, and had approached him. Backing him into an empty classroom, closing the door, trapping him.

" What's wrong with you? Why are you behaving so strangely?" Her features twisted in a mix of concern and anger. 

It surprised him how easily it tumbled out. How he was able to form the words without difficulty. Surprised that it didn't choke him on its journey up his throat. 

"You slept with Malfoy."

No more lies.

Her mouth opened and closed, no words just gasps. He didn't help her, making no attempt to fill the heavy atmosphere with words.

" How?" she whispered finally. 

" I saw you in bed with him," he stated matter-a-factly. Her face had paled, her gasps turning into heavier pants as the truth hampered her breathing. 

" I.."

" Don't deny it. We see your touches and looks." 'We', this was for Pansy as well.

" I…"

" Don't say you have feelings for him. Say that you love him. He'll hurt you. He'll destroy you. He's never going to be good. He's a bastard, and men like him don't change Hermione ." 

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, falling with a splash on the floor. She backed away, hitting Malfoy who had entered silently after watching Hermione disappear into the classroom, curiosity driving him. She looked up at him, her eyes looking accusingly up at his, before running out. 

Draco turned to look at Weasley, whose face had remained neutral, and Draco wanted nothing more then to wound him. 

" It kills you doesn't it? Knowing that Hermione loves me and not you." The red-haired boy's posture began to falter, his body quivering with the anger building up within him. 

"You're probably right. I can't change. I am what I am and probably won't be able to change that. Hell I'll probably become a death eater, killing mudbloods just like her in ten years time." 

He turned to leave but not before one parting shot, " Now how does it feel knowing she'd rather have someone like me then you?" 

**********

            And so time passed. Malfoy and Hermione continued what they started, while the seams holding the trio together began to break – Ron had told Harry and Ginny, but no one else. Life dragged, with Ron having to put up with Malfoy's smug smirks behind Hermione's back until the final day, graduation, where Ron was finally proven right. He didn't close the door on Hermione when she had come running, crying to his dorm. He had comforted her, forgiven her for her blindness and even for her remaining love for the man he truly hated.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o End Flashback

            10 years later an older Draco was carrying a dishevelled Hermione up the steps in Malfoy manor. His mother was away, and he could no longer be witness to Hermione's spiralling descent into madness. He would get nothing out of her like that. He had already fed her, and she now sleeping in his arms. That was his reason for his actions, not the feelings that had consumed him in the dungeons or the emotions that had led him to plant a kiss on her forehead. As he laid her on his bed, he asked himself a question. " Could she really change who he was."

*************

            She had bullied her way into the house, despite the pathetic house elves attempts to keep her out. She needed to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness for her outburst. She had kept quiet for so long…… but now from her view downstairs Pansy made up her mind, the moment he saw her kiss her. He would bring him down even if it meant she went with him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Ron downed the glass of fire whiskey held in his hand. He grimaced as the burning liquid trickled down his throat, setting his insides on fire. He couldn't stand the drink but it was one that made him temporarily forget his worries, a fact that kept him reaching for the bottle again and again through out the night. He sat back down on the armchair, the comforting glass and bottle being nursed by his hands. He was alone. Harry was still at the office, determined to unravel the mystery of Hermione's sudden disappearance act. Ginny had gone as well. But added to Harry's reason was an extra one, a bonus; she didn't want to see her older brother's plunge into drunkenness and idiocy again. Pouring himself another shot, he unsteadily raised a toast , " to all the fucking death eaters, especially Malfoy, for successfully ruining my life." He mumbled before putting the warm glass once more to his lips. In his mind it was a title well deserved, through the years they had effectively stripped him from those he loved; his parents, Bill, George, Hermione. He raised a toast for each of them. Oh god! How could he forget Percy?! A girly giggle fell from his mouth as he brought his arm up once more. To the now annoying dead git. 

Just about to feel the taste of the foul liquid for the tenth time that night, a sharp knock on the door disturbed his celebrations. Startled he dropped the glass from his clumsy hands, it landed with a smash onto the floorboards. The whiskey slowly began to burn a hole through the floor as well as punching holes in the parts of his trousers it had splashed on to. But Ron didn't notice as he inelegantly scrambled for the door. Tripping over the side table, skidding onto the floor. But he finally made it, he could see the solid lock even with his blurry vision. Shaking he began to undo it, his body swaying on unsteady feet, his eyes wide with joy and his lips pulled back into a drunk, happy smile. She was home. His love was home. With a burst of energy he flung the door open..

" Hello Herm…."

But the words died on his lips when he realised it wasn't the comfortable face of Hermione before him, but the beautiful face of Pansy Parkinson. 

" What… are… you… doing here?" he stuttered angrily. He desperately searched for his wand in his robes. A death eater in his home, well he would send her where she belongs. Straight to hell! If he ever found his damn wand.

"Where the fuck did I leave it?"

**********

            Pansy watched the incompetent fool tear at his robes, chanting, "Wand, I need my wand," over and over again. The stench of drink wafted from his breath to her nose, which immediately wrinkled in disgust. Why couldn't Potter be here? Why did it have to be the fucking Weasley? Harshly she shoved her way past him, all she needed was to be spotted outside this godforsaken place. He spun with her brush aside, and collapsed in a disgraceful heap on the floor. He leaned heavily on the door, which shut with his weight. Giving up on his search he looked up to her with his pale, gaunt face in defeat.

" What the fuck do you want?" he slurred. 

" Just wanted to say that your girlfriend is in Malfoy's bed." 

His eyes widened for a second; emotions of joy and hurt running through them simultaneously before they closed, as he passed out at her feet, his head hitting the floor with a dull thump.

                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N Had a request ( Spaced out space cadet) to include more Harry and Ron bits, which was a very gud idea!! So there you go- althou admittedly is more Ron. If u've read this please review!! U can call it a xmas present from u to me!!

Don't mind if its mean or nice, a review would be lovely all the same!!!

Have already said Happy xmas and new year but what the heck they're worth another mention so…

HOPE YOU HAVE A HAPPY XMAS AND NEW YEAR!!!!

Luv cedar1

Big bear hugs to Thalion1, Mesmer, Spaced out space cadet, Elle, Serpent du Feu, Mina-Chan 2 for ure lovely reviews!! Hope u guys have a brill hol!!


	9. Love and Revenge

Another Chance? By Cedar1 

A/N hope u all had a fab xmas and new year!! Am afraid this term my updates are going to be less irregular as my laziness from last year has caught up with me and I have loads of work to do. But keep sending in reviews, they never fail to get me writing again. If I don't post for awhile check out my other fics ' immortal', ' roles reversed' or the latest one parter ' cupid's busy day', and let me know what you think! 

My last chap got pretty mixed reviews cos it was mainly ron, sorry to any of u who don't particualy like him but thought id better mention him sooner or later as he does have a little bit to do with what happens next storywise and it made sense to make clear his feelings. However although he appears once more in this chap I promise herm and draco feature much more … hope that makes up 4 the last chap. So I'll let u read on and hope u like it…….

(Warning: there are scenes of a more R rated sense with bits of strong language, just to warn those who may not like such things)   

Disclaimer: I'd be a right muppet if I said I owned anything but a plot!

**Chapter 9:** **Love and Revenge**

Previously*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

10 years later an older Draco was carrying a dishevelled Hermione up the steps in Malfoy manor. His mother was away, and he could no longer be witness to Hermione's spiralling descent into madness. He would get nothing out of her like that. He had already fed her, and she now sleeping in his arms. That was his reason for his actions, not the feelings that had consumed him in the dungeons or the emotions that had led him to plant a kiss on her forehead. As he laid her on his bed, he asked himself a question. " Could she really change who he was."

*********************

" Just wanted to say that your girlfriend is in Malfoy's bed." 

His eyes widened for a second; emotions of joy and hurt running through them simultaneously before they closed, as he passed out at her feet, his head hitting the floor with a dull thump.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            He lay beside her, the bed groaned as it accommodated his weight. Despite the disturbance she didn't stir, her eyes remained shut; to her he didn't exist. And so he stayed unnoticed watching the gentle rise of her chest and listening to the melodic whistle of the air that passed through her lips each time she breathed in and out. He began to inch his way closer to her. His elbow was now touching hers as they rested on opposing arms. He was so near he could feel the warmth of her breathe lapping his face. The simple desire for her to wake up and see him had been his motive to move. He wanted her to realise he was there for her. To make up for all those times that he wasn't. 

***o*o*o*o*o*o*o* **Start Flashback

            _He knew she was behind him, despite her attempts at being discrete; trying not to stare at his neck – all that bare skin exposed crying out to be kissed and loved, her hands balled up into fists, jammed in her robe pocket, fighting the temptation to pull her towards him. Yet regardless of these acts of self-control she could not prevent the shameful pink blush that spread like wild fire across her cheeks. It was the only outward sign of unnatural behaviour, and was caused by the scandalous memories of their various meetings that raced through her mind every time she saw him. But Draco couldn't see this give away, no his clue was the scent that seemed to radiate from her body, float through the hallways, filling his senses, alerting him of her presence. It wasn't the heavy pungent smell of flowery perfume that many of the girls in his own house favoured, but lighter, sweeter, something that only she seemed to possess._

_She wanted to talk to him. All through charms he caught her nervous glances in his direction, her mouth opening slightly before realising words should never be spoken between them in public – her gaze would then immediately flick away, defeated. On more then one instant Draco was positive that their two way ocular conversation was intruded by two additional unwanted pairs of eyes – Weasley's of course and Parkinson, he guessed she would have caught the unintentional signs that pointed to the relationship, she may not have been the sharpest quill in the box but she was observant, especially when it came to him. However their contributions were short-lived, as they both looked away with identical looks of hurt and pain on their faces. But Draco spent no time pitying them, life was unfair, deal with it.   _

_***************_

_            Hermione followed the straight-backed figure into the library. Her quick reflexes preventing the door from slamming in her face in his wake. Chivalrous behaviour was not for the eyes of others, come to think of it gentlemanly manners weren't his strong point in public or private; it just wasn't his style. She followed the sound of his no doubt highly polished shoes clicking against the ancient floorboards as she made her way down the windy paths of the aisles. The deeper she went the less light was able to penetrate through the cracks of adjacent books, and the haunting whispers of age-old texts calling to her, inviting her to flick through their pages of dark magic was doing nothing to end the chills of trepidation that tracked up and down her spine. He was doing this purposely, leading her away from the light to the dark, to his world._

_            Suddenly the comforting noise of his shoes stopped and the only sound that met her ears was that of murmuring books. Hastily she continued her path straight on, eyes squinting, trying to make sense of her surroundings, searching for a shock of blonde against the blackness. To her surprise a stonewall blocked any further progress. A dead end. But then where the hell did he go? She turned round, only to gasp when she was confronted with two silver mocking orbs. In her shock she stepped backwards, her head whacking painfully onto the solid wall behind her. _

_"Ow!"_

_Reactionary tears of pain sprung from the corner of her eyes. _

_" You had to do that didn't you? You just had to."_

_He answered with a throaty chuckle while his fingers busily moved through the mass of hair, feeling for any bumps or cuts._

_"You're fine." He lifted his hand from within her curls, trailing his fingers down a lone strand, playfully tugging it down as he gave his diagnosis. _

_Still angry she yanked the hair from his grasps. "Gee thanks." Despite the evident sarcasm she failed to get a rise out of him, for his blue eyes still harboured the tinniest glimmer of amusement within their well-covered depths. Grumpily she turned her attention to the dust covered books that surrounded them. Curious fingers traced the elaborate font that spelled out the various titles; '**The darkness within: unleashing the dark wizard within you'**, '**A black spell for every occasion**.' They must have sneaked into the forbidden section, trust Draco to find some way in without having to consult Madam Pince first. She found herself lifting one of the books out of its rightful place. It wasn't that she had a sudden immense desire to desert the white side, but she couldn't deny that she was attracted to the darker spells. As she flicked through the yellow pages, her eyes flitted from curse to curse, widening as they took in the descriptive details of how to perform the complex magic. It was this that appealed to her, not the end effects. They were a challenge, not like Herbology and Charms, which had descended down a spiral of routine wand flicking and boredom. _

_            Draco watched intrigued as he saw the girl drink in the information presented in the text with her eyes. He could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she tried to understand the finer details that were pointed out in each set of instructions. _

_" I could teach you how to do some if you want."_

_She slammed the book shut, shoving it back to where it came from. " No thank you," she said curtly, her back still facing him. He knew why she did it. It would have just been another reminder of his dark background, and for now she preferred to be in a state of denial when it concerned that part of his life.  But he was less eager to partake in games of pretence, graduation was tomorrow and with it came a new beginning in his life, one that his father would have been proud of, and one that his mother commanded he walk down._

_**********_

_            Hermione fiddled with the hem of her robe, awkward silences always brought her worse habits out into the open. She had wanted to ask him for so long, and in her mind she would re-enact his various answers, but being the optimistic girl that she was he would always say the same thing, "Yes." However, now at the point of letting out the question that had been burning up her insides for so long, she felt less sure of his response. Would he actually do it for? Could he? They had remained hidden for so long, but Hermione was beginning to tire of it. Tomorrow was graduation, they were officially adults, they could do what they wanted, couldn't they? Despite the vast amount of time they had spent in each other's company they had rarely talked about the future. But that didn't mean that Hermione hadn't thought about it. Hadn't envisioned a life of blonde-haired, brown eyes kids running around happily in green gardens. Sometimes however there would be a nagging voice in her head, Ron's, telling her he could never change, and in a flash the joyful vision was scrapped and was replaced with one shrouded in darkness, a haunting figure dressed in black robes and a mask at the centre of it. Hermione began shaking her head, wanting to get rid off that image from her mind. No he had changed. The Draco Malfoy she knew now would pass his fingers through her hair until she was asleep, would magic cups of coffee into the room during one of her long study nights. They had never spoken of love, but it was there, hanging in the air – a silent declaration made up of actions and kisses. With these thoughts Hermione finally gained the courage to speak..  _

_ "It's about graduation….," her confidence lapsed under his intent gaze, and so she stuttered the following sentence, " I wanted to know if you would dance with me."               _

****

_He looked at her with a queer mixture of disbelief and amusement._

_"You know I can't," he stated firmly._

_"Why not?" Her eyes were glazed over with hurt. _

_"You know why not." He hoped this would end this conversation, however she had other ideas as her mouth once again formed words he'd rather not hear. _

_" Don't be difficult Malfoy ( so she was angry with him, Draco thought as his first name was replaced scornfully by his last). We're adults, who cares what others think?"_

_" Stop going round in circles Hermione," he dragged her name out, hoping to annoy her, " You say you don't care what others think, then fine lets keep this," his pointed his finger first to her and then to him, " quiet. If we don't dance nobody will be there to pass on their opinions, nobody will know, nobody need 'think' anything."  He couldn't take the sound of her pleading with him anymore, maybe it was the fear that he might just break down or that he could feel the burning heat building inside him as their argument continued, and so he made to leave. But he wasn't expecting her final last grasp for hope.._

_"But I love you," came her quiet whisper._

_Draco froze, his feet were stuck to the floor. He wanted desperately to run down the aisles and out of the library had his whole body not felt heavy with the weight of her words, pushing down on him in all directions. He had never heard or spoken those three words in their time together, and he had believed that if it was not said it didn't exist. But her declaration smashed that façade, bringing him down to the unforgiving world of reality. _

_" Did you not hear me. I love you." _

_He needed to get out and the only way he could do that was to give in, to lie._

_" Fine I'll dance with you."_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* _**_End Flashback_

Draco had always been a good liar, and that time had been no exception. Of course he hadn't attended the dance, to the then eighteen year old Draco initiating himself  into the death eater circle had been more important than meeting the whims of a disillusioned girl. For wasn't that what she was – a believer of dreams? In no world could a Malfoy ever openly cavort with a mudblood. Admittedly he had feelings for her, but they weren't strong enough for him to go public, to shun everything he believed in, to deny destiny. He didn't love her?! And so the night of graduation he had slipped out before the festivities began, the tune Hermione was singing in the bath marking his exit. That night whilst Hermione was dancing with several partners, her head giddy with excitement, her eyes continually flicking to the doors waiting for a pledge to be met; he was in a darkened wood making new promises to his lord. When he went back that night he hadn't been sure what he was going to tell her. He just thought that after today their lives would simply separate down paths that were already decided for them. She no doubt would become an auror and he a death eater. Two opposites that would soon forget about one another. But it hadn't been as easy as that…

***o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o***Start Flashback

            _Making sure no one else was around Draco whispered the password and let himself into her quarters. It wasn't his first choice of call but he had left his robes here and he needed them back. The room was thrown into darkness with only lucky patches lit up by the faint moonlight. He hadn't seen her at first, curled up in her armchair, her feet hidden beneath the dense silk robes. But then he could feel her eyes boring into his back, her smell filtering through his robes, caressing his skin. _

_" How long have you been here?"_

_" Only a few minutes," she answered matter-a -factly._

_"Have you seen my robes," he asked casually. She sprung out of her chair and was upon him in a matter of seconds._

_"Have you seen my robes. HAVE YOU SEEN MY FUCKING ROBES! You promised me. You promised that you would be there that you would dance with me." Her eyes blazed with fury, Draco could see the sparks of angry brown crackling around the pupils._

_" Its only a dance Hermione." He tried to move past her, but she grabbed onto his arm. A jolt of pain rocketed through it, as her fingers pressed ever more tightly on to the dark mark that now adorned his flesh. Gritting his teeth he pulled her fingers off him, flinging her arm away from him. _

_" Grow up Hermione," he yelled in her face, the coupling of her angry words and the sheer pain of the dark mark sent his blood boiling spitefully under his skin. " It was only a fucking dance. There are more important things in life that prancing around in a hall high on cheap drink." He felt ask if he was talking to a child, seemingly pointing out things that were plainly obvious._

_But then she replied in a similar manner, her head shaking with his apparent stupidity, " Of course it wasn't just the dance. It was about us. It was our chance to show the others that we loved each other…." However her speech was cut short by his ruthless words._

_" I've never told you that." Never told you that I loved you._

_*************_

_She stopped mid-sentence, her heated face replaced by one of pure hurt. She always just assumed he did. Everything they had done, how he acted around her hadn't that added up to love? She couldn't be wrong about this. She was never wrong. Determined to prove her case she began to rack up a series of arguments in her head._

_" What about all the times you said you couldn't live without me."_

_He lazily walked towards her, the bright patches of moonlight playing upon his feature, dancing on his smirk._

_" Lies."_

_"But.." He silenced her with a cold finger on her lips. He brought his face even closer to hers, his lips nearer, making sure she could fully see him enunciating his words, " All lies Hermione. A boy would do anything for a fuck." In that one coarse word he had dismantled her happy dreams. But that didn't stop her from desperately trying to re-build it. _

_"Well if that's all you wanted why didn't you go to Pansy or any of your other groupies?" _

_"Malfoy's like challenges, and anyway I had a promise to uphold," _

_She looked quizzically at him, wide brown eyes glistening with fresh tears._

_" I said I'd ruin your life that night in detention, and if you listen really well," his finger once again pressed onto her lips, his eyes closed mimicking the action of listening, " You can hear pieces of your heart splintering off one at a time." The twisted smile that ended that sentence was enough to crack the final fragment of her fragile heart. Damage done. The necessary completed he began to move away from her, the missing robe forgotten.   _

_            She felt so empty. She couldn't stand it. In a sudden move she grabbed on to his sleeve, desperate to stop him from leaving her. The force of her action surprised both herself and him as the black material ripped at the top of the arm._

_And there it was the most ugly thing she had ever known on the most beautiful thing she had ever known. Ron was right all along. She was shaken out of her stooper by two strong arms that were gripped tightly on her shoulders. _

_" Don't you dare speak of this to anyone Granger. Remember who I am, who I'm connected to. It won't be just you're heart I'll be breaking."_

_The fear that was running amok in her was not due to his words but the anger that radiated from the narrowed slits of blazing silver, it was freezing her to the core. How could she ever have been naïve enough to think that love could exist in such a remorseless place._

**_*_o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o **End Flashback

That night she had run away, tears blinding her escape, from his arms to that of the Weasley's. Sure enough on the train journey he saw his protective arm over Granger, shielding him from ' that evil son-of – a bitch Malfoy', Hermione had briefly looked at him, before turning her head away, blanking him from her life. The night before had been the last words they spoke for ten years, that morning the last look. Yet that didn't mean he didn't see her, maybe not up close but in the distance. From above, looking down on her as she fired spells towards his associates on a muddy wasteland. Doing nothing when he saw her body writhe in agony as she became a target of an unforgivable. Through newspapers, with their many photos, detailing her 'passionate' affair with Weasley and then a few months later announcing the split with a picture showing Hermione by herself at a ministry event. Surrounded by glowing couples, a fake smile plastered on her face, loneliness tingeing her brown eyes – something that probably he could only see. The night that newspaper had come out Draco brought yet another eager pureblood to his bed, while Hermione had cried herself to sleep in a bed that was far too big for one.   

His long fingers grazed her cheek tenderly, missing the bruises that he had himself caused only hours before. The words fell from his lips so naturally, like they had always been on the tip of his tongue. He just never had the courage to admit it. Ten years had been long enough to dwell on his mistakes and their relationship. In truth she had never been the disillusioned one in regards to their feelings for one another, he had been the one lying, to himself and her. Too young to realise that the expectations of others was no way to live your life and that destiny was what you made it, not something that was pre- planned Second chances were there to be taken hold of not to pass by, and so he finally confessed his deepest darkest secret. 

" I love you."

He was startled to find her looking back at him.

**                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

            Lifting  her robe off the ground Pansy stepped over the slumped figure of the red- headed Weasley. Heavy guttural snores were being emitted from his gaping mouth offending her ear-drums, spurring her intense desire to get the hell out of the money deprived hovel of a house. She had done the necessary. Her revenge was complete. Yet however sure she was of her actions it did not stop her hand from shaking as she fumbled with the steel lock. What was wrong with her? The dawning thought that essentially she was presenting a life of imprisonment in Askaban wrapped in a sheet of bitterness to a man she would always love, was probably it. But then didn't he deserve it? Hadn't he imprisoned her for the rest of her life? Maybe not literally, but she was trapped in her own cell - a loveless marriage and the part of the dementors were played by the passing inadequate lovers all of whom sucked out the hope that there was someone else out there for her, leaving her in the knowledge that the only one who was, was lost to her. No he deserved it, every last miserable second of it. With more confidence she was finally able to click the lock open, yanking the door forward. The heavy pine hit the unconscious man on the head. Pansy didn't care. The snoring stopped temporarily before once again settling down to the rhythm that had been created in such a short space of time. 

" Fool," came her last parting shot, as one satin covered shoe stepped onto the pavement outside. 

            But then it hit her. The man she had just confessed to was laid comatose at her feet, what was the likelihood that he would remember any of what she had told him? Hell his memory was probably limited when sober forget when he had had two bottles of fire whiskey tipped down his throat. Slamming the door shut she glared angrily at the source of her present problem. 

"Fool!"

The stream of thick drool leaking from his mouth was enough for her to want to throw up the exquisite food she had had for lunch.

" Incompetent idiot!"

Getting her wand from within her robes she violently hit the wood of the instrument to the wood of the Weasley head, muttering "sobrio" under her breath. His mouth widened as slowly a cloud of red mist began to steadily stream out of him. It rose above their heads, dispersing the smell of alcohol around the room.

And she waited. 

************

            It was a strange feeling having the hangover spell being performed on you. Ron could almost feel his head getting clearer as the fog that clouded his mind was pushed out. He watched the last clouds of alcohol float past his eyes. It was then that he saw he angry female face glaring at him. 

" Do you remember what I told you?" her harsh voice penetrating his skull. Her eyes bored into him, daring him to say no.

But unfortunately he did, every last word. And how it killed him. 

" Yes." His eyes were downcast, now too tired to withstand the effort of looking upwards. He watched as her small shoe stepped over his outstretched legs, a flash of pale flesh passed before his eyes. He could almost see her reaching for the lock when something came out of him…

" Why?" 

She stood still; her fingers lay frozen on the metal, the tips tingling from its coldness. She didn't need to ask to what he was referring to. It was obvious to them both.

" You know why." She had thought the answer was too.

He remained silent, not replying to her response. So he wanted her to say it. Fine. Why not tear more holes in both their hearts?

" They shouldn't be together. Its not right." Not when we are there. 

She was once more met with silence. Well if he wanted to elaborate the point, he would have to do it alone. She didn't want to play that game. She was always the loser. 

About to leave she was surprised to feel the tight grip of his hand on her arm. She turned to stare into the dull blue eyes of the now standing man, wondering what the hell he was doing. But he shocked her further by smashing his lips onto her own. Yet what was more startling was that she didn't put up any resistance to the intimate invasion, instead she retaliated with equal force. She could taste the tangy remnants of the alcohol on his thin lips, as his over eager tongue began to push into her mouth, suffocating her. The strength of his body pinned her own small frame against the door, squashing her. But she still didn't stop despite the pain his forceful actions generated and the disgust his callous hands rubbing against her flesh evoked. Why? 

Revenge. The possibility of the shocked looks on their faces when they found out that two people closest to them had been together.

            Ron picked her up, only to drop her on the hard surface of the table as he continued ripping the clothes of her overly thin frame. He didn't fully understand why he was doing this, or why he was so adamant on seeing it through. He didn't find her attractive, her eyes were too small, her hair too stiff with the numerous styling spells she had applied on it and her bones were poking through her pale flesh, making his fingers want to curl up in revulsion. Yet he maintained the close contact. Perhaps it was a way getting even closer to the woman he had shared years of pain with. Or maybe, and more accurately it was the simple childish desire to put one over Hermione. She fucked his enemy, so he would fuck hers. Revenge.

            As their actions got more intense and intimate the two figures found themselves being transported to a world of imagination, anything to get away from the sickness that the act produced in their stomachs. Coarse red hair gave way to silky platinum strands, freckled skin to smooth marble. Whilst bony hips plumped up to give a more rounded figure, and hair twisted into wild curls. In their minds they were making love to their true loves, not to each other. 

                        ***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***   

            " I love you." 

Those three simple yet life-altering words spoken by the one person that she had never hoped from hearing it from, yet what she desired most in the world. Hard, cold silver had finally thawed, not to bubbling lust, but to the flowing, tranquil liquid of love. She didn't know what had provoked such a change. But she didn't doubt its sincerity. He had changed. 

            She could see his lips twitching, trying to get out the thoughts that were filling up his mind. It had taken ten years to fight away his demons and strip away the layers of denial. Ten long years and she wasn't going to waste time with words. Placing a finger on his mouth, she silenced him. He stared at her, wide- eyed with shock as she began to move her finger along the smoothness of his lips, before planting a delicate kiss on them. He made no attempts to deepen it, letting her decide on the pace. And it was ' gentleness' that best described their night. There were no hurried movements, or forceful caresses everything had stayed slow, with soft kisses and long moans punctuating the atmosphere. They wanted to take their time, to make up for all the seconds they had lost.        

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

            Low moans reverberated off the walls as the moment of release finally came for the two forms entangled in one another on the Weasley dining table. His head lay heavily on her shoulder, as his body shook with ripples of satisfaction. Beneath him her own limbs were trembling. He may not have been her ideal choice. But sex was sex. 

However soon the waves of pleasure cascaded down to nothing and all that was left was the reality of what they had just done. Ron had yet to move from the crook of her neck, uncertain of what to do. Should he be the gentleman; pick her clothes off the floor, offer to call her, before closing the door and running to the nearest bathroom. He felt dirty. He had never done that before. Although reluctant to admit it Ron was an old-fashioned romantic. He believed in wooing the girl, presenting her with flowers and chocolates, getting to know her and then going up to the next level, but only if there was love. If not. What was the point? Disgusted with himself as well as the sordid mixture of her heavy perfume and dry sweat that hung in the air; he could feel a familiar cramping in his abdomen, he was going to be sick.

            The woman who lay below him shared his feelings with equal intensity. The hot heavy breathes hitting her neck were making all the cells of her skin curl up in repulsion, as the moisture they produced formed a slick layer over them. His damp torso lay pressed on to her own chest and all she wanted to do was put her hands up and push him away. Seeming to sense her need to leave as soon as possible he slowly lifted himself off her, his head turned away from her naked form. Losing no time Pansy snatched her expensive robe of the dirty floor and covered herself, hiding the marks he had left on her body. Weasley still had his back to her and not being too bothered about seeing his face before she left, she made her way to the door.

"Parkinson will you swear to what you saw in court." He asked from behind her.

"Yes, and anymore information you might find useful." She stepped out in the open air, glad for the fresh breeze that seemed to cleanse her dirty skin. " By the way Weasley it's Flint," and with that she was gone, but not before noticing the further droop of his head, as he added one more item in the list occupying his guilty conscious.

*************

That night a sober Ron waited for Harry to tell him the news. 

They were finally going to get his Hermione back.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

PLEASE REVIEW IF U'VE READ TILL THE END! TA!! 

A/N ok am pretty sure that's the most I've ever written for a chapter. But was it any good? Or was it merely a mass of dribble that continued for far too long? Review and let me know please!! Am always happy when get I reviews – nice way to take my mind off depressing exams and work over load argh! Wud like to get past the huge brick wall that is the 50 reviews spot, so I'd like around 10 reviews ( more wud b rather nice) for this chap-pleaaaaaaase call it a late xmas present or early birthday present. Can b nice or nasty (but if u don't like the story tell me what's wrong with it and what I could do to make it better)!

Oh and about the sex scenes if any of u were looking for detailed stuff I don't think ure gonna get it from this fic writer. I think if I tried it would probably get u all cracking up in laughter as it wud b that crap!! So I took the cheap way out and kinda glossed over it. 

PS it may seem like I'm getting to an end, but there will be a few more chapters with sum bumps and scrapes waiting for our fav twosome

Thanx to those who reviewed last time; Thalion1, Mesmer, Spaced out Space cadet, Serpent Du Feu, Mishi, mina-chan 2 sorry for the wait in posting .

Bye for now Cedar1

. 


	10. Nothing lasts forever

**Another Chance******

**By Cedar1**

A/N Ok first off **huge apologies** for the massive amount of time that has passed since my last update, am tryin to think of an excuse but..........hmmm.

Thanx to all those who reviewed last time u guys make my day: Spaced out Space Cadet, mesmer, Thalion, HARRYPOTTER4LIFE, awaysheflew, Serpent du Feu, ellabelle1, RnB Diva Gurl, a

As always wud luv it u cud review at the end! Cheers!

Just to clear up a few things, I know this is a Hr/D fic and instead I've been mentioning Ron and Pansy quite a bit. But the way their relationship affects Ron and Pansy and vice versa is quite central to the story, so I thought I had to write something about their feelings too. Althou I promise Hermione and Draco will be more I can't say that Ron etc won't be making an appearance. So maybe if u want a solely Hr/D fic this isn't 4 u, just a warning. Thanx.

But enough of my babble on with the story which I hope u enjoy!

Disclaimer: am borrowing JK Rowling's characters for a while.

****

**Chapter 10:**** Nothing lasts forever**

**Previously**

Hard, cold silver had finally thawed, not to bubbling lust, but to the flowing, tranquil liquid of love. She didn't know what had provoked such a change. But she didn't doubt its sincerity. He had changed.

And it was 'gentleness' that best described their night. There were no hurried movements, or forceful caresses everything had stayed slow, with soft kisses and long moans punctuating the atmosphere. They wanted to take their time, to make up for all the seconds they had lost.

0000000000000

"Parkinson will you swear to what you saw in court." He asked from behind her.

"Yes, and anymore information you might find useful."

She stepped out in the open air, glad for the fresh breeze that seemed to cleanse her dirty skin.

That night a sober Ron waited for Harry to tell him the news.

They were finally going to get his Hermione back.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 10:**** Nothing lasts forever**

'Da dum'

'Da dum'

She listened to his heart beating beneath her. It never changed. The rhythm never altered; it remained constant, comforting her as she lay on his naked torso. It was so unlike the ups and downs of their relationship. But that was in the past. Last night marked a new beginning in their lives together.

"I love you"

"I love you"

The phrase kept repeating in her head over and over, making her giddy with ecstasy. It wasn't just the words it was the feelings behind it that made Hermione feel like she could fly. She was not a woman to be flattered with insincere thoughts but when he said it. It was a world above that. Malfoy's were not ones to share their emotions with anyone, hell they even kept them hidden from themselves.

Unconsciously she found herself spelling the words on his chest, her fingers moving on the pale skin lazily to form the letters. She was behaving like some love-sick schoolgirl…..

"Hermione if you don't stop that I may need to cut your hand off," said the lazy drawl she had come to love.

She lifted her head from his warm flesh. His eyes were still closed as they were in sleep but the rays of sunlight that had managed to slip through the crack of the curtains highlighted the tilt of the smirk that was playing on his lips.

"Stop staring its rude." Another smart remark.

"Like you don't like the attention."

Her quick comeback achieved a chuckle from the man before her. The throaty sound vibrated in the atmosphere around them, as well as making the chest beneath her rumble gently. She pushed herself harder against him, squeezing out any air that separated them. She wanted to remain like this forever. Flesh against flesh. Skin against skin. It was heaven.

"Keep doing that and I won't be able to breathe."

"Shut Up."

Yet the order came out more as a murmur as she moved up his body and let her lips settle upon his. Finding that was the only way to silence a Malfoy.

000000000000000000000000000000

Unknown to the lovers their happy situation was to be shattered by the group of aurors that were gathered at the foot of the grand staircase. There was a distinct buzz that surrounded the ten figures, a buzz that was brought on by the rush of adrenalin that was taking their senses by storm. They were on the verge of arresting one of the most illustrious and intelligent Death Eaters still alive and their fingers twitched to reach for their wands and blast him away, to make him pay for all the lives he had taken. It had been a lengthy process getting into the manor, breaking the various curses that protected their owners and hid their well kept secrets. They had been planning throughout the night and it was only this morning that Harry had announced that they were ready to attack.

Their leader giving the signal from the front they began their movement up the stairs. Each of them so highly trained, that any footfalls were silent. Their target would never know what was coming.

Unlike the men that followed them for Harry and Ron the sweat that brought a sheen to their faces was not from excitement but from fear. They had already searched the basement, the ground floor and still there was no Hermione. And the number of rooms that had not yet been explored was rapidly decreasing. Their hearts were trashing within them, beating against the bones of their ribs, threatening to splinter them to pieces with its force. Each step meant one closer to either happiness or complete and utter devastation.

What if they didn't find her?

What if it was too late and she was already dead?

The questions spun wildly in their heads making them sick with the mixture of anxiety and dread.

They were at the first door on the corridor now, ready to pounce. Harry lifted his gaze to the heavens, like he had done for all the other rooms, praying that finally this would be the one. He held his hand in front of him, his lips mouthing the words as his fingers counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Alohamora?" screamed ten voices in unison.

The door swung open, hitting the adjacent wall with a loud bang, which in turn was followed by a pin-drop silence as they took in the scene in front of them.

Ironic really.

They had all presumed the surprise would be on Malfoy's part

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It's amazing how the heart can go from frantic beating to staying so still that his blood just seemed to remain static in his veins, the once steady flow grounding to a halt. Even his lungs had failed him, for he was neither breathing in nor out. He was frozen. Destined to relive this moment in time forever. It was the past coming back to haunt him. Slithers of mint green next to flashes of pale skin. The sickening mixture of pale and dark strands entwined around each other on the pillows. His vision was becoming blurry, tears obscuring the image that didn't seem to want to leave him alone. The muffled order of Harry's 'To get out' to the others, together with the whispers and footsteps that followed were only background noise to the nightmare that lay in front of him. He had caught the curve of her breast before it was quickly covered up by shaking fingers and a thin sheet. How could she do this? How could she give into him so quickly? He forced himself to look up, to tear his eyes away from her body to her eyes. The eyes that told him everything.

But she was avoiding his gaze. Her eyes firmly fixed on her lap. Her hair shielding most her face from his view. But the brown curls were not able to hide the red patches of sore skin that decorated the smooth curve of her neck, the marks that told their own story. His hands were curled up into tight fists by his side, his nails digging into the flesh of his sweaty palms. Why was he never good enough for her? It always came back to that. The problem that he could never solve, never overcome. The one thing that blocked him from what he had wanted more than anything in his life.

Her.

The one thing that belonged to him.

Malfoy.

His jealous eyes immediately flicked towards the fucking son of a bitch. And what he saw made him want to leap across the room and pound the fuckers face repeatedly, over and over again, never stopping until there was nothing left. Nothing to compete with him.

The bastard was smirking. His thin lips pulled up into the expression that Ron had seen a million times. Yet this moment was different. It was a level above childhood taunts and pathetic insults. It was the final nail that was hammered into the coffin where Ron's fragile heart lay, dead. He had won. He knew. The bastard knew it! After all he had done to her, Ron had noticed the bruises that marred her beautiful face, the ones that came from the hand of a man, and she would still run to him. To Malfoy and not to Ron. It was his final and greatest victory over him, and Malfoy was enjoying it to the fullest.

Harry's voice temporarily broke the two men's connection as he voiced his concern for Hermione.

"Did he rape you Hermione?"

Harry too had seen the bruises but his thinking had led him to a completely different conclusion and in all honesty Ron thought the wrong one. Yet Ron was still interested in what Hermione would say and his blue eyes returned back to her shaking body. Perhaps. Perhaps Harry was right whispered the voice of hope in his head. Ron shook his head at his sick thought. He wouldn't want Hermione to have to ever go through that, but then didn't that mean there was a chance she could still be his?

Ron was not the only one to be waiting for Hermione's response for Draco's silver eyes were too trained on his lover. And he watched in slow motion as she nodded her head, her curls bouncing in time with the movement. How could she do this to him? To them? Hadn't he given up so much for her by confessing his love? Had he not betrayed everything that he believed for her? It was in this state of speechlessness that he was struck down by a curse by Harry. The sight of Weasley wrapping his gangly arms around Hermione the last sight he saw before his eye lids gave way to the strength of the spell that saw him become unconsciousness on his own bed.

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She sat on the chair. Her fingers lay pale, cold and shaking on her lap. The skin on her face was stained with blotchy red patches, where she had rubbed her tears fiercely with the scratchy material of her robe. Her eyes were trained on him; she was unable to take her gaze off him, the guilt racking her mind keeping them tied to him. He had fought his demons for her, yet she could not do the same for him when the time had called for it. She had been so overwhelmed. The power to form coherent words had left her in a cloud of shock when they had come crashing through the doors. She couldn't help but be ashamed when she saw the faces of her best friends as they looked upon her dishevelled appearance, her nakedness protected by only a thin sheet. She didn't know what to say, she had merely wrapped the sheet tighter around her form, hoping desperately that she could disappear and leave a puddle of green silk where she lay.

But then she had glanced at Draco and instead of sharing her expression of stunned silence he had had a smug smirk plastered on his face, his grey eyes focussed solely on Ron, who seemed to grow redder and redder as the seconds passed with maddening slowness. It was at that point that Hermione had wanted to leap across the bed and wipe that smirk of his face with one hard swipe of her hand.

How could he be so cruel?

Wasn't it enough that he had her?

Did he have to rub Ron's face in it?

She dropped on the chair that was placed conveniently behind her, the weight of the emotions that rested within her no longer allowing her to stand on her own two feet. Why was everything so difficult? Why was her life the path that twisted round numerable corners, the one lined with the stony obstacles whose sole aim was to trip you up and send you crashing to the unforgiving ground? This morning she had finally thought she had everything that she could ever want, everything her heart had desired. The man that she loved next to her, loving her as much as she did him. But then the part of him that she thought was gone forever. The part that she had hated violently for more than half her life, resurfaced, hurting her and her friends with such deadly accuracy. More efficiently than it had ever done so in the past.

He brought one of his hands to his messy hair. Long fingers running through the kinks and bumps, smoothing the haphazardly positioned strands to their usual perfection. Each one receiving painstaking attention, just like her skin had this morning. The memory of his silky touches was enough to bring tingles of pleasure to life along the length of her arms, her legs, her stomach and other areas that would make her blush if she said them out loud. She lifted her legs onto the chair, wrapped her arms around them, and squeezed her limbs to her chest as much as she could. Anything to stop those prickles of bliss.

But it was fruitless. Her mind was working against her, replaying the images of their night and morning together. She began to cry again. Tears of frustration and pent-up emotion soaking her heavy robes.

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She was slow to realise the entrance of two more people into the small observation room. Ron and Harry shared a look of confusion, neither knowing what to do. Ron turned to glare at Malfoy, his lips twisting to an ugly look of hatred and satisfaction, leaving Harry to comfort their best friend alone. He approached her cautiously, his arm rising and then dropping uselessly by his side, unsure of the best way to act.

"Hermione?"

It was phrased like a question. It was almost like he couldn't believe that the crumpled figure in front of him was once his stubborn, strong minded friend.

"Hermione."

He called again after she failed to respond the first time round, his voice a notch louder. She looked up at him, acknowledging his concern, before once more placing her head on her knees.

He looked back at Ron, a silent plea for help. But his red-headed partner was still preoccupied in his aim to kill Malfoy with looks alone, or maybe he was just deliberately ignoring the call for aid. Sighing Harry crouched by her side, his right hand running through the mass of curls. She didn't say anything but she had flinched as soon as he had touched her scalp. The action had been enough of an indication to show that that hadn't been the right move, it probably reminded her of Malfoy.

Malfoy.

The bastard!

How could he be so calm when Hermione was practically trying to cry the life out of her?

"Hermione it's alright. We understand how painful it is for you. He's been arrested, he'll be trialled. He will get what he deserved," he whispered to her.

"What he deserved."

He was just able to catch the muffled monotone words through the layers of wool and hair. However he was not given any time to analyse her short statement as she raised her head and looked at him square in the eyes.

"He didn't rape me Harry." A ghost of a smile formed on her lips.

"He didn't do anything I didn't want." Her eyes clouded briefly in remembrance meaning she did not catch the way Ron's body had stiffened, his muscles tensing to the maximum.

"Trial him?" A glimmer of amusement in her question.

It was then that Ron finally decided to make his presence known. The anger he felt for her and Malfoy no longer able to be contained.

"What do you want us to do? Let him go!"

He was screaming now. The words bouncing off the walls, sending vibrations through them with the force of his rage. She had simply ignored him, her head turned so she was no longer looking at him. But he was determined she listened to what he had to say for once. He had tried to warn her about Malfoy before, but he was just pushed aside like he always was. Well he wasn't going to be ignored this time. He stormed up to her, pushing Harry out of his way. He grabbed hold of her chin forcefully, making her look at him.

"He kidnapped you! Beat you! Does that mean nothing to you?"

She closed her eyes, hiding her feelings from him.

"He's killed Hermione. Are you that selfish that you'll let him off just because you like fucking him?"

Her eyelids flicked open revealing two burning orbs of deep brown.

"Me selfish. Don't tell me sentencing him to death won't please that pathetic school boy in you. You've always hated him. You've never given him a chance."

"He doesn't deserve a fucking chance! He deserves a life in hell!" He released his grip, vehemently pushing her face away from him. Her everlasting denial and blindness in all things concerning Malfoy successfully pushed him over the edge. He didn't know whether he could stay in the room any longer without wanting to hit her into the realm of common sense.

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Harry was shoved aside as Ron stormed past him, the door slamming in his wake. His gaze flicked from the exit to Hermione who had gone back to her previous position, curled up on the chair. He hated being in the middle of things, not being able to do anything but watch as their friendship split at the seams, again. And it was because of the same reason that tore them apart in 7th year. Malfoy. Harry moved his head so his was once again facing the blonde. He wasn't doing anything, just staring into space. His eyes hard and unreadable. Was Hermione right? Had he changed? His friend had always been so wise, so certain in her beliefs. Truthfully the 'Golden Trio' would have been nothing without her. They had used her for her intelligence for her quick reasoning. But then they all had roles to play and they were all to keen to play them. Nothing had changed, and so perhaps she was right. Malfoy was ...good. God that sounded strange, even just in his head. If it was true..... Harry couldn't help but think of the possibilities. There could be no arguing that a Malfoy on their side was easier to cope with than one against them and with one of their elite gone would the Death Eater resistance continue? Could it? And the story itself would if anything help to raise the dwindling moral of the wizarding public, for what could be better than a tale of love and redemption between a Death Eater and an Auror to give hope to the people.

"Do you believe that?" Harry asked.

Hermione raise her head wearily from her knees. "Believe what?"

"That he's," Harry inclined his head to the prisoner, "changed. That he won't hurt again."

Hermione suddenly looked more alert, her eyes widened in surprise at his enquiry and her answer came out strong and clear. "Yes."

Of course he had. Did he not kiss away all her pain yesterday? But then a voice within her reminded her who had caused her all that pain in the first place. Who had hit her so hard that she had marks that would not fade with simple wizard charms? It was that voice that uttered the shaky word that was next uttered from her lips.

"No."

She could feel Harry looking at her. His face confused at her contradicting answers. He wanted a definite reply. They always did. But she couldn't give one this time...

"I don't know. Just go Harry."

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He could feel her staring at him through the wall that allowed her to look in but not him to look out. He could feel the guilt and pain that radiated from her. Part of him wanted to break the door down, grab hold of her and never let go – anything to stop her crying. The other part – the Malfoy part – wanted her to suffer. Wanted the red eyes and broken heart. For wasn't it her friends that brought this on them, her inability to admit to their love. Her friends, her insecurities, her fault. The Malfoy way of thinking was never that complex.

But instead he did neither, he didn't cry for her, he didn't rejoice, he simply stared blankly at the cracks in the grey stone in front of him; reflecting on the simple fact that all their hopes and desires in the morning had been a fool's folly.

Why?

Because nothing can last forever.

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**If u've read till here pleaseeeeeeeeee review and let me know what u think**

Am really not sure on this chapter, too fluffy in the beginning, and then Draco turned mean at the end but I thought that he couldn't keep being so nice... Argh so many things so please review.

A/N a couple more chapters to go till it all will be wrapped up in a parcel of misery or happiness. Still not sure on the ultimate ending, keep changing my mind. so if u guys have any preferences let me know in ure reviews.... ****


	11. Trial and Errors 1

**Another Chance?**

**By Cedar1**

Disclamer: Am just borrowing her characters for a while. Promise. oh and the basis of the courtroom and practices were taken from OOTP.

A/N Balloons galore this fic is now nearly a year old! WOO HOO! so would like to thank mesmer, thallion, Shaeya Sedjet, a, shimmering sparkles, vanilla26785, L.Malfoy, Vampiress-Alexiel, ellabelle1, magichappen11, Jene, Lana, draco2chexi4u, christine, princess of star, lastsuicidenote for reviewing the last chapter have never got so many reviews 4 this story and all those you have reviewed in the past!

As usual reviews if left would make me vvvvvvvvvvvvv ( u get the idea!) happy so just click that little yet v. important button at the bottom! Cheers!

**Important note**: Was originally gonna be one big chapter but have decided to split it up so sorry if this is a bit low on excitement or it just seems to stop. Definitely not one of my best but I'll promise to make up for it in the next chapter. Sorry..

**Chapter 11****: Trial and Errors (1) **

00000000**Previously**

'"Do you believe that?" Harry asked.

'"That he's," Harry inclined his head to the prisoner, "changed. That he won't hurt again."

'Hermione suddenly looked more alert, her eyes widened in surprise at his enquiry and her answer came out strong and clear. "Yes."

Of course he had. Did he not kiss away all her pain yesterday? But then a voice within her reminded her who had caused her all that pain in the first place. Who had hit her so hard that she had marks that would not fade with simple wizard charms? It was that voice that uttered the shaky word that was next uttered from her lips.

'"No."

'She could feel Harry looking at her. His face confused at her contradicting answers. He wanted a definite reply. They always did. But she couldn't give one this time...

'"I don't know. Just go Harry."

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He could feel the guilt and pain that radiated from her. Part of him wanted to break the door down, grab hold of her and never let go – anything to stop her crying. The other part – the Malfoy part – wanted her to suffer. For wasn't it her friends that brought this on them, her inability to admit to their love. Her friends, her insecurities, her fault. The Malfoy way of thinking was never that complex.

'But instead he did neither, he didn't cry for her, he didn't rejoice, he simply stared blankly at the cracks in the grey stone in front of him; reflecting on the simple fact that all their hopes and desires in the morning had been a fool's folly.

'Why?

'Because nothing can last forever.

**Chapter 11****:** **Trial and Errors (1)**

They stood on her toes and slammed their heavy elbows into her body in their rush to bag their own seat for what was deemed the case of the century. The Wizengamot was heaving, the wooden benches that were organised into neat rows groaned with the weight of the number of eager wizards and witches that attempted to squeeze themselves into their places. They whispered among themselves, their eyes widening as they heard new tales of wickedness conducted by the accused from their fellow gossipers. She had heard her name mentioned more than once, often accompanied by the solemn shake of the head - " Poor girl." "It must have been terrible." However it was in the words of those of her age and younger did sentiments other than pity reach her ears.

" Lucky bitch. Can you imagine, locked up with only Malfoy looking after you," had spoken one particular vapid witch, her tongue licking her lips at the tantalising thought. Her friend had simply laughed at her bold comment, whilst those of the older generation had clucked their tongues in disapproval.

Nobody saw her. Her robe was a colour that nobody would remember or be able to recall. Her hair tumbled messily below her shoulders, covering the majority of her face. Rarely did she go out in public with her hair loose, it was normally scrapped back into a bun or plait and with her glasses on no one had recognised the quiet witch in the corner to be the one that they spent so much time talking about. Yet she saw and heard everything and it sickened her. How could people be so flippant? They were treating this like some sort of quidditch match. Their eyes flicking back and forth from door to door almost as if they were expecting teams on brooms to come whizzing out. Their hands rubbing together in enthusiasm, like they were waiting for the players to enter and the game to begin. The heat and the sweat from their squashed bodies all lending to the atmosphere of sitting out in the summer sun of another world cup. But this wasn't a game. The players weren't fighting for some silly cup. Their prize was far more valuable, far more priceless than a trophy made of shiny silver. It was all a matter of life and death. Of guilt and innocence. Of truth. The witnesses, members of the order, families of the dead, even the ardent followers of the dark way of life, they were all caught in the web of this case, and like her were waiting to see what would happen, what would unfold. And yet here were these people acting like they were simply at a quidditch tournament and not at an event which would affect so many people's lives and souls.

And it sickened her.

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The door clicked open and the first glimpse of light that Draco had seen for ages began to flood the dark cell that had been his home for so many of the nights that had just past. His eyes closed in pain as more bright light hit his vision.

"Open your fucking eyes Malfoy."

The first word was enough for Draco to open his eyes in defiance and determination as he recognised the person the voice went with. Weasley who else.

"How nice of you to grace me with your presence Weasley. Did she finally tell you the truth?" His voice was cracked and husky from lack of use and drink. He withstood the pricks of pain that pierced his eyeballs as he gazed up at the red- haired man in front of him. Make that red - faced man. Draco smirked in triumph.

"Get up Malfoy!" The weasel commanded. However Draco noted the waver in the voice and the tremble that affected the fists that had curled up on either side of his body. The memory of being able to piss off his peer came flooding back to him and Draco wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into this opportunity and really annoy the hell out of the bastard in front of him.

"Did she tell you how we slept together? How we made love. How she screamed my name whilst she was under me."

The satisfaction that leaked from his voice could not be contained as he saw the man in front of him wilt, his strong posture crumbling under the anger that was no doubt spreading throughout his entire being. For the first time in days Draco stood up, his legs shook slightly but he didn't notice, he was too high on the pleasure that the other man's pain gave him. Like a snake going for the final attack he made his way towards Weasley. So close now that his mouth was just a few inches away from his ear. Draco wetted his dry, chapped lips, wanting to taste this moment to the fullest.......

"Do you remember what she tastes like? You must do. So sweet. So delicious. I can still taste her if I lick my lips. I can still see her naked when I close my eyes."

He watched in delight as the Weasel's eyelids closed in agony, the length of his lashes becoming wet from the fresh tears that leaked from his tightly shut eyes. _So this is what pain tastes like_, thought Draco as the tip of his tongue escaped his lips catching the aura that radiated from Weasley on his taste buds. It was addictive. Better than the food that was served in the most expensive restaurants, their delicate portions on big white plates were nothing when compared to the sensations that now rocketed his senses. And all because of one man's jealously. One man's unrequited love.

"How long has it been since she let you kiss her? And I'm not talking the friendly peck on the cheek but the full on kiss on the lips." Although Draco invited a reply he did not give time for him to answer before he was throwing yet more questions in the air.

"Did you ever sleep with her?"

It was at that moment that Ron's eyelids snapped open. His eyes glassy with tears, like a little boy who never got the toy he wanted on Christmas day.

"She never did, did she? She'd sleep with a bastard like me but not with a guy like you. It must hurt. Does it hurt? Is that why you came barging into my home and locked me up on charges that have as much weight behind them as a fucking feather. I'll be free soon you know. You and Potter have nothing. Then I can take Hermione home and fuck her as much as I please."

"Don't you dare talk about Hermione like that," whispered Ron, his voice thick with the tears that had collected in the back of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," replied Draco mockingly. "But you know its true. You have nothing on me Weasley. Nothing," stated Draco with a note of finality at the end.

It was up to that moment that Draco had been the one with the confidence, with the self assurance. But then there was a abrupt shift, a change in the situation that was signalled by the small smile that began to form on Ron's lips. The tears had dried and there was a glint in the pale blue eyes of the red head that cracked Draco's previously iron strong posture. Suddenly

Draco's legs felt weak, his head heavy, his eyes stinging with lack of sleep and his stomach churning from lack of food. Bile began creeping up his throat, clawing its way into its mouth spreading its sour taste over the surfaces of his cheeks, his tongue. He felt sick. He wanted to retch. Wanted to spit the disgusting substance that filled his mouth onto the floor. Get rid off the nerves and uncertainty that was building up within him.

What was it that Weasley had?

What lay behind the knowing smile that was blinding Draco with its glaring brightness?

" Maybe we don't Malfoy. But then maybe we do."

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The heavy oak doors at the opposite end to where Hermione was sat were flung open, and the torches that were placed at either side of the entrance sparked to life. Silence descended on to the courtroom, with each and every pair of eyes transfixed on the open door. Breaths were held and mouths were agape. Hermione was no different, her heart was pounding and her right foot was tapping nervously on the stone floor beneath her. Was it him?

The sound of footsteps marching down the dim corridor that lay beyond the door echoed in the dungeon. The dull thump of sensible, black, flat shoes bounced of the walls, providing an accompaniment to Hermione's racing heart.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It was getting louder and louder, and Hermione was practically falling off her seat in her desire to see if it was him.

THump.

THUmp.

THUMp.

THUMP.

It was a sea of the deepest purple that emerged. Wizards and witches in uniform lines of five passed through the grand doors, row after row. They walked as one big unit, their foot falls in time with each others, their expressions of indifference identical to one another. They flowed into the high benches that stood at one end of the dungeon, a mass of colour parting into smaller streams of plum. Fifty in all, the intricate silver W sewn in the left hand side of their chests branded them as the judges, the Wizengamot. In the centre of the front row was the stony face of Morgillius Frickin, the Minister of Magic. The man that had organised the chaos that had been left over from the war, the only other person other than Harry Potter that had secured a place in everybody's heart. He was admired, respected and the only man Hermione trusted to make an unbiased, fair decision. Using the silence their entrance had produced to his advantage Morgillius began to speak, his clear loud voice reaching each corner of the dungeon.

"Behavioural Hearing of the sixth of August into offences that break the International Statute for the Freedoms of the Magical Folk, the Decree for the Appropriate Conduct of Persons During Times of War, the Law concerning the Use of Magic Within Muggle Areas................"

The list went on, the decrees, the laws, the statutes all of which Draco was accused of breaking at one time or another during his twenty eight years. At some point in his speech Hermione had stopped listening, in her head Frickin's voice was reduced to a gentle humming that whirred on in the background as a voice started to scream increasingly at her. Why the hell was she here? Why the fuck was she so eager to see him? He had help destroy one of the most beautiful and amazing things that had ever happened in her life - her friendship with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The ties of years of love and companionship shredded to tattered threads of memories because of the affect this man had on her. Ron hadn't talked or even looked at her since Draco's arrest. His blue eyes would pass over her like she didn't exist, like she was just an empty space. As for Harry, well it wasn't as bad. He looked at her, he tossed her the odd remark or a polite greeting. But that was all. It wasn't that he was in agreement with Ron's hot- headed attitude but because she couldn't give him the answers he needed. She couldn't say that Draco had changed and she couldn't say why that in spite of this she still loved him. He didn't understand her and so he had distanced himself from her, from the mad woman that had taken the place of his once wise, stable friend.

She hadn't slept in the past ten days. Every night she would toss and turn trying to figure out what she would do if Draco was found guilty, whether her friends would ever take her back. And each morning she would find her face damp with the tears that had soaked through the cotton of her pillow. They were tears of hopelessness, for there was no way that Draco would be found innocent. She had seen the mark that was burnt in his flesh, she had even kissed it. And even if he had escaped the first set of trials that had taken place straight after the war, there appeared to be no loop hole he could crawl under this time. The arresting aurors were far more prepared, and they had something under their sleeves that Hermione had been kept in the dark about. There was something, she could tell by the confident swaggers and the easy smiles that were on display in headquarters. They were definitely hiding something. And then what would happen if he was found guilty, years of imprisonment...death. Call it selfish but wouldn't she need someone to be there for her if the worst happen, didn't she need her friends? But the problem was she no longer had any best friends.

On the other hand if by some weird twist of fate, call it luck, Draco was found innocent would she just go running back into his arms, into his bed. Of course she loved him. She loved him so much it ached. Yet he always seemed to hurt her everytime she thought everything was going well. If she went back to him there were no guarantees he wouldn't do it again. No definites. However she couldn't live without him. She wouldn't just be able to return to her normal routine, not when he was in her mind every second, of every day. It'd be death by memory. But then what's the alternative? Run off. Live happily ever after in some fairyland that didn't exist. Her friends would never forgive her, there would never be the slightest chance that she would be forgiven for her sin. Hell, even mere acquaintances wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. Just because a court declared you innocent it didn't mean that everybody would. Where ever she would go there would be whispers trailing behind her. No they would have to go far, far away, disappear from everyone and everything they were familiar with.

But then could she do that with a man who destroyed her as much as he loved her?

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Draco struggled to keep up with the pace that his guards chose to walk at. Of course the fact that his feet were shackled together by a string woven from iron and the additional problem of them gripping his arms that he felt they were going to be broken from the joints, meant that he was not in any state to be walking so damn fucking quickly.

"Why don't you boys slow down a bit. Trust me, you have all the time in the world to sentence me to death."

No reply. Their grip merely intensified. Obviously graduated from the same school of intelligence as Goyle and Crabbe Draco thought scornfully.

After Weasley had left with that smile still plastered on his bloody face time had passed down a spiral of dread. Only one question, one thought burned in his head. What the hell did Weasley have? He had be so sure in his belief that by the end of today he would be walking out, laughing in the faces of his accusers. Ten years had gone, and not even a blemish on his record. They always had nothing. He was so careful, there was no way they could have got any evidence. He prided himself in the way he played with their surveillance teams and there could be no one brave enough to stand up against him. Malfoys weren't called bastards for nothing. Yet even if they did not fear him, they would certainly fear the rebelling dark side. They would be as soon as dead if they were to help imprison one of the key members of the resistance. Who would be foolish enough to do that?

Hermione?

No. She had obviously told her friends that he hadn't raped her, and she loved him too much to testify against him. Call it overconfidence or egotistical but it was the truth and at a time like this it was no point lying to himself. No. She loved him. It was in her eyes each time he saw her, even when she had nodded her head in agreement to Potter's rapist accusation - which Draco had still not fully forgiven her for. But right now he had more important things to worry about. Possible death being one.

Head full of possible theories, which seemed as ridiculous and as impossible as the next, Draco had been slow to realise that they had reached the big oak doors that stood between him and the Wizengamot . One of the guards politely knocked on the door and it immediately sprang open. Had him being on trial not been an issue Draco would have loved this exact moment. Hundreds of eyes were on him, stripping him from head to toe. He had never felt so naked, so exposed. He was practically dragged to the simple wooden chair in the centre of the room, where he was then pushed onto its hard seat.

"Have fun Mr Malfoy," mocked one the guards.

"I'm sure I will," he retaliated, smirking back. However the smirk was cut short as chains appearing from the legs and arms of the chair began to wrap around his limbs. The tight metal cutting through his flesh and Draco had to bite down hard to stop himself from screaming at the pain. All he could hear was the sound of his teeth cracking against each other. Eventually he lost any sensation in his extremities and gradually the pain subsided, leaving only numbness.

The guttural chuckle from one of the guards was reverberating in his head. He looked up to see a mass of faces. They were all smiling, revelling in his torture. Well fuck them, and Draco flashed the best smirk he could. His grey eyes trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible. They would immediately look away in discomfort, their smiles vanishing off their faces. That was until he came across a familiar set of deep brown eyes. It was her face only that showed something other than enjoyment - disappointment.

Hermione.

The words of old Frickin were saying - "The trial of Draco Malfoy now begins. The prosecutor calls forth their first witness....." barely registered in his head. He could only see her now, everybody else had blurred. The corners of her mouth slanting downwards, her skin pale against her hair and her eyes hard, staring straight through him. Draco wanted to say something, anything and his mouth was parting unconsciously.

Then he heard it - " Mrs Pansy Flint."

And the words that came from his lips were not the ones that he had planned...

"Oh Fuck."

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A/N **please review if u've read till here. Ta! **

I know Hermione is sounding completely selfish, and thinking about herself a lot, but she can't be completely perfect. So sorry if that is OOC. And she cries a lot, but with her friends being mean to her and Draco being trailed I thought she kindof had a right to cry.

oh and 1 more plea I wrote a songfic- Don't Speak - a few days ago, angsty stuff, quite short, if u fancy it please check it out and review, only got 2 comments, one for, one against. I really wud like to know what more people thought of it.

Thanx luv cedar1


	12. Loving a monster

**Another Chance?  
By Cedar1**  
  
A/N Thanx to Vampiress-Alexiel, Megz, jessica, Allayne, ellabelle1, mesmer, thallion, steph for all your lovely reviews! on a completely different note, on a bit of a rant i've just tried booking a ticket on the net for a train, and due to some mistakes and a clevery hidden point have had to pay 20 quid extra,  
grrrr.... so to that company (u know who u are) u are so not forgiven!  
  
Sorry bout that... but hope u enjoy this chapter and review please! (meant to be read pitifully)  
  
Important note: Forget about splitting the chapter, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger and still have not finished it. So consider this a separate part.  
But rather enjoyed writing this one, came a lot easier than the other, hope u guys like it...  
  
**Chapter 12**: **Loving a monster**  
  
**Previously**

No they would have to go far, far away, disappear from everyone and everything they were familiar with. But then could she do that with a man who destroyed her as much as he loved her?  
  
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What the hell did Weasley have? He had be so sure in his belief that by the end of today he would be walking out, laughing in the faces of his accusers. Ten years had gone, and not even a blemish on his record. They always had nothing. He was so careful, there was no way they could have got any evidence. He prided himself in the way he played with their surveillance teams and there could be no one brave enough to stand up against him. Malfoys weren't called bastards for nothing. Yet even if they did not fear him, they would certainly fear the rebelling dark side. They would be as soon as dead if they were to help imprison one of the key members of the resistance. Who would be foolish enough to do that?  
  
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Then he heard it - " Mrs Pansy Flint."  
  
And the words that came from his lips were not the ones that he had planned...  
  
"Oh Fuck."  
  
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**Chapter 12**:** Loving a Monster**

It was hard trying to put up a mask of grace and composure when in reality she felt that she was going to shatter into a million pieces. The nerves were tearing her apart and her heart was beating so fast that she thought it was going to explode inside of her. The silence of the dungeon had been broken by the announcement of her name and the surprised gasps and excited chatter of those gathered accompanied her walk to the witness stand. Yet it wasn't those wizards and witches who had induced the nervous energy that swallowed up all of her inner poise but those that had remained silent. Those who were hidden in the darkest corners of the courtroom. Those whose arms were inscribed with the intricate design of the dark mark. It was they she feared. It hadn't entered her mind before now. She had been so blinded by her jealously that the actual consequences of her actions had passed her by. However she could practically feel the weight of them bearing down upon her now. She remembered a comment made by Weasley and Potter about protection, but she had waved them off, putting silent their concerns. _Pansy, you stupid idiot_, she thought, berating herself, she had just successfully signed her life away on someone who probably didn't give a shit about her anyway. She turned her head slightly, facing the cause of all her problems. He was the only person not looking at her in the entire room, his gaze was fixed in an altogether different direction. She tracked his intense stare to a witch who sat at the far end of the public area. It took her awhile to recognise the woman. The mass of frizzy hair covering the majority of her face, but it eventually hit her,  
viciously striking a chord in her heart.  
  
Granger.  
  
Even now he would still only look at her, even when she had his life in her hands, and that green monster that had started this whole process in the first place rose within her, crushing all her fears.  
  
_Well if she was going to die. So were they._  
  
With renewed confidence she turned to the faces of the Wizengamot, who were all looking at her curiously, trying to understand exactly why she was doing this. But the thing was they probably never would. Nobody would. Well perhaps Weasley, but then he was nobody.  
  
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So this was it. This is what they had been hiding. Pansy. The shock had burst the bubble of hush and the atmosphere suddenly electrified with pure anticipation at the secrets that the new witness may bring to light. Yet Hermione did not partake in the chatter instead her eyes remained trained on Draco. The smirk had fallen and his lips had been pulled into two thin lines.  
But it were the eyes that gave him away. The eyes that were normally so hard, so unreadable were now darting from side to side. Flicking from door to door, searching for an exit.  
Desperate. Scared. That tiny light of hope that she had kept alight for him flickered out. He was never one to look anxious, especially not in public. It was enough for Hermione to lose faith.  
  
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"Could you please state your full name for the court." Frickin ordered, beginning the proceedings.  
  
"Pansy Flint, previously Parkinson."  
  
"And who are you and what have you come to tell the court."  
  
Pansy wetted her lips before starting, " I was a school mate of Draco Malfoy's back in Hogwarts and was. Sorry am a member of the Death Eaters together with Draco Malfoy."  
  
"That is a strong accusation Mrs Flint. Draco Malfoy has already been trialled for his participation in Death Eater related activities and had been found innocent." The statement was said by a rather portly witch who sat further back.  
  
"Perhaps. But the incompetence of a prosecution team and the importance of money can bear a lot of weight on a verdict." The bold comment raised a few eyebrows as well flushing the cheeks of the woman who had questioned her allegations. Frickin broke through the tension created with a clear of his throat before starting to speak again.  
  
"Is that so Mrs Flint. Well. Well what evidence can you provide us with to back up that claim."  
  
"I can prove that Draco. Sorry Mr Malfoy has partaken in improper conduct during times of war, has been involved in the torture of muggles and has also kidnapped and assaulted a member of the auror department."  
  
It was hard to describe Hermione's feelings at this point. Improper conduct? Torturing muggles? Things that Hermione felt so strongly about. Things that Hermione had classed in her mind as being wrong, bad...evil. Things that Pansy could prove Draco had done. She felt hot.  
She felt like she was burning from a sudden fever. She felt sick and dizzy, her head heavy with the thoughts that were multiplying in her head. And yet at the same time she felt cold and empty,  
almost as if her soul was leaking out of her. Had she really fallen in love with the devil? No.  
No.  
She couldn't have. She could never love a person like that. Draco. Draco had done some bad things in his time, but it was during the war. They had all done some bad things in that time,  
hadn't they?  
  
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"Pardon my rudeness Mrs Flint. But how can we trust you?"  
  
"I understand your weariness. But over the past years I've made a habit of collecting my memories in a pensieve." On cue a guard brought in a small bowl shaped from the finest white marble. All eyes were fixed on the light that the silvery contents within emitted. He placed it on the table that magically appeared in the centre of the room. Having done his job the wizard completed his task by handing a sheet of paper to Fricken, who in turn read through the proffered document before once more clearing his throat.  
  
"Well it appears that the pensieve has already been prepared."  
  
Pansy merely nodded, knowing fully what the word 'prepared' meant as did every body else.  
Over the past years pensieves had played an important part in trials, memories proving far more reliable than the words said in the stand. However the process by which each member of the Wizengamot would be sucked into the swirling liquid was too time consuming and drained far too much energy. Though with time spells had been invented that enabled the entire Wizengamot, in fact, the entire attendance to experience the memories, with the witness themselves appearing only when they wanted and only to who they wanted. This was what the word 'prepared' meant, and with just a tap of his wand and a muttered word all who gathered found themselves being drawn into a whirl of black.  
  
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In a split second they were all taken back nine years. Their feet hitting the baking, hot ground hard. Hermione looked around, her hand shielding her eyes from the harsh rays of the sun that beat down upon her. The Hurkpunkle trees on the right. The crimson flag of the Order wilting on its pole in the distance, the still air preventing it from flying high. It all came flooding back to her, in a tidal wave of memories that she had hoped to forget. She couldn't place the exact spot but the location was that of Gilringham field, the piece of land where the most ferocious of the fighting had commenced during the war. With the heat causing sweat to seep out of her flesh it was obvious that it was sometime in the summer, so the war was near its end she concluded. Swimming her way through the memories that filled her head Hermione tried to remember what she had been doing.

The war had begun suddenly. Voldemort's attack had surprised them all, even Dumbledore.However that didn't mean they were not prepared. Roles had already been decided and by the time war was officially declared everybody just slipped into their designated jobs, quickly and without complaint. She herself had been an integral part of the strategic team, cooped up in a tiny room, head bowed over maps in the early mornings and for the rest of the day she fought like everybody else. Her station had been Gilringham field. But she hadn't realised that Draco too had been here. It probably wouldn't have mattered, at the time she had considered him the lowest of the low. Her heart had still not fully recovered following that night after graduation and the anger that filled her had been stronger than ever.

What would she have done had she come face to face with him?  
  
The question however remained unanswered in her head as voices from behind her made her turn around sharply. Instinctively she wanted to pull out her wand that was secreted in her inner robe pocket, and in fact her fingers had already found their way around the smooth rosewood. However there so no need, for even though they were so close to her they took no notice of her, indeed they didn't even glance in her direction. She walked towards them, her wand still at hand. There were two figures, a taller one and a shorter one, both wearing black robes that had patches of dust marring the fine material they were no doubt made off. The first voice she instantly recognised. Draco's.  
  
"What the fuck do you want us to do? Leave them here so they can run back to Dumbledore and tell him who we are. Think about it you bint. They know who we are. They can stand up against us in court and then we'd be well and truly fucked up wouldn't we?"  
  
Them? There was no one else here. She watched confused as the smaller person, who she presumed was Pansy - for they still wore their masks - bow her head, deep in thought. Head still downcast, a tiny voice could be heard coming from her, words so quiet that Hermione had to strain to hear them.  
"I know. But Draco what can we do. Voldemort's dead. We've surrendered already. We can't kill them. It's against the law. We can't kill outside of war."  
  
Hermione caught the tears that punctuated the girl's argument and could see the fingers that trembled at the ends of the long armsleeves. She was afraid. Hermione had never seen Pansy look so vulnerable. She always seemed so cold, so harsh and yet here Hermione felt something akin to sympathy for the girl. Draco meanwhile was standing stock-still on the spot, his conscious battling with the ingrained need to survive.  
  
In the silence, the sudden sound of shoes against gravel caused Hermione to shift her attention away from the two. Stepping to her right she saw the source of the noise that had been shielded by Pansy and Draco, and she gasped in shock. Crouching in a huddle on the floor were a mass of bruised and battered bodies, the tattered bands that were on their forearms showing them to be members of the order. Hermione ran towards them, her fingers trying to undo the knots of rope that tied their hands together, but her hands simply slipped through them. Tears of frustration were coursing down her burning cheeks, and she collapsed on the floor next to them.  
Despite the wails of despair that left her lips the girl next to her did nothing, her red eyes remaining fixed on an invisible point in the distance.  
  
In truth Hermione wasn't sure whether she was crying at the state of the people beside her or the fact that the man she loved was so casually proposing to kill them. She turned back to him, staring hard, trying to make him realise that killing people was never an option, no matter what.  
  
"There's no other option. It's either us or them," came the determined voice of her lover. Hermione's stomach turned at his decision. She knew he had killed, but somehow lately that particular piece of information had slipped into the part of the brain where she never went. It was like she was deliberately trying to forget that part of his life, trying to erase his past. In the background she vaguely heard Pansy's meek acceptance...  
  
"Fine you do what you want. But me, I'm having none of it."  
  
Pansy walked away, removing herself away from the scene of a mass murder. And in slow motion Hermione watched Draco remove the mask from his face, throw it on the ground and move towards the prisoners. With a look of indifference on his face the young Draco hauled each one of them onto their feet and with the efficiency of a trained assassin pointed his want at each, killing them with statements of Avada Kedavra? He moved on from one person to another, and the way their mouths rounded to an 'o' of pain during the act having no affect on his composure whatsoever. Whereas Hermione was curled up in the fetal position, her head buried in her hands. For despite the fact that they were silenced by the silencio charm she heard each of their screams. They echoed in her head again and again. Together with the thump of their lifeless bodies hitting the ground. And it was through the gaps between her fingers did she see Draco pick up the mask he had discarded earlier and calmly place it back on his face.  
  
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Still crying, the bodies, the ground, the sky dissolved around her. Their colours turning to different shades as she was brought into another time and another place. It was dark now,  
with the only strip of light being cast by a lone flickering streetlamp. Whispers from the shadows ruffled the strands of her wild curls and caused the hairs on her neck to stand up on end. Then there were feet near her head and Hermione looked up to find herself in the centre of a group of Death Eaters, and her heart stopped beating. She saw nothing but the white of their eyes and the colour of their pupils glittering between the eyeholes of their mask. Suddenly they began to move away from her, walking quickly and purposefully. Hermione struggled to get up, her legs shaking violently beneath her. It was as if she knew what she was going to see but she didn't want to believe it until she actually saw it. She followed them to the steps of the house. A normal blue door with the number twelve displayed on it in gold metal their only obstacle. Hermione looked round, trying to figure out where she was. Even in the bad light she could see no evidence of magic. It was a muggle neighbourhood she realised in horror. Turning back to the Death Eaters she saw them blast the door away from the hinges in a flash of blue. The sounds of screams filled with terror soon began propelling her to run inside the house, following one of the Death Eaters up the stairs.  
  
Her legs moving beneath her she found herself in a bedroom and as soon as she stepped over the altar her legs immediately froze. A girl. A tiny girl was shrieking, her high voice shattering Hermione's eardrums. So much agony. Her thin arms were wrapped around her small frame, trying desperately to quell the immense pain that was ripping her insides to shreds. Sweat was dripping from her small face, together with the fresh blood that was falling from her bottom lip, that she was now biting hard. In the midst of all this the Death Eater she had followed was laughing merrily, her piercing giggles mocking the child's attempts at defence. Whereas the other, who had been there already, maintained their rigid hold of their wand that was pointed at the girl. Granite grey eyes concentrating behind the mask so not to destroy the link between killer and victim.  
  
Draco.  
  
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The scene began to change again, objects blurring and then merging again to give a different setting. But Hermione couldn't take any more, she needed to get out and as soon as her surroundings began to solidify she tried to find an exit. Her hands pushing against things,  
hoping to open some secret passageway out of Pansy's memories. Yet as before her fingers simply passed through the stone, the wood. And then it started again. The screams of suffering.  
I've got to get out. I've got to get out. That was her only thought, but it was useless there was no way out. She was trapped and she collapsed on the floor in defeat. Hands covered her ears trying to block out the noise. She was rocking. Thinking of anything but this. Anything but him. A hand suddenly grasped her shoulder, while another tried to rip her right hand away from her ear.  
  
"Don't you want to watch? Don't you want to see what your beloved does?" A voice taunted her.  
  
Hermione shook her head. No. She couldn't take any more.  
  
But the voice continued.. "Have a look Granger. Go one."  
  
Her eye's snapped open and she found herself looking straight into clear green slants set in the beautifully carved face of Pansy Parkinson.  
"I don't want to," Hermione screamed back to her.  
  
"Tough shit Granger. I love Draco. He loves you. Life's not fair." With that Pansy forcefully lifted Hermione, grabbing her chin with her hand, making Hermione look behind her.  
  
It was her. Her hair was filthy, greasy, matted, in a mass of disorganised tangles. It was her who had been screaming. But Hermione couldn't remember this. Wait. It was the cell that Draco had tossed her into those many weeks ago. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows. Pansy? Then she saw him on the opposite side. His hair messy, almost as if he had been constantly running through it with rough fingers.  
He stood in front of her.  
  
"Tell me where they are goddammit!" He yelled in her face.  
She merely gazed up at him, eyes glazed.  
That's when it happened. The hand flew though the air slapping her soundly on her cheek,  
catching the corner of her lip, drawing blood.  
  
The hand of the Hermione that watched was now resting against the bruise that was the remains of that hit.  
  
"You know now don't you?" came that voice again, Pansy's voice.  
  
"You know what it's like to love a monster."

* * *

A/N Please review if uve read till here! Thanx!  
(really wanna reach the 100 mark in review world, so please .....) Gotta love an evil Draco - he's so much fun to write! 1/2 big chapter/s left to go and a smaller last one (which am writing at mo) and all will be done! have actually decided whats gonna happen at the end, huge achievement for me cos am norm the most indecisive person ever.  
NE how looking forward to hearing what u thought about it.  
Luv Cedar1 


	13. Justice

**Another Chance?**

**By Cedar1**

A/N First off MERRY XMAS!! Good tidings to u all and christmas mince pies all around Yay!!

second..Thanx to the stars who reviewed last time, mesmer, Shabopo, carolyn, jessicaLucyferina, aellabelle1, JuxtaposedSchism and Cami4 ure lovely reviews really made my day!

This chapter is definitely not one of my best, quite short. The next one should (cross fingers) make up for it.

Oh and if i don't update b4 then HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Discalimer: Same old. Nope own nothing apart from the shirt on my back and perhaps the plot i have in the front pocket of said shirt.

**Chapter 13 : Justice**

**Previously**

Even now he would still only look at her, even when she had his life in her hands.

_Well if she was going to die. So were they._

**0000000000000**

Had she really fallen in love with the devil?

She couldn't have. She could never love a person like that. Draco. Draco had done some bad things in his time, but it was during the war. They had all done some bad things in that time, hadn't they?

**000000000000**

With a look of indifference on his face the young Draco hauled each one of them onto their feet and with the efficiency of a trained assassin pointed his want at each, killing them with statements of Avada Kedavra

A girl. A tiny girl was shrieking, her high voice shattering Hermione's eardrums. So much agony. Her thin arms were wrapped around her small frame, trying desperately to quell the immense pain that was ripping her insides to shreds. Granite grey eyes concentrating behind the mask so not to destroy the link between killer and victim.

That's when it happened. The hand flew though the air slapping her soundly on her cheek, catching the corner of her lip, drawing blood.The hand of the Hermione that watched was now resting against the bruise that was the remains of that hit.

**00000000000000**

"You know now don't you?" came that voice again, Pansy's voice.

"You know what it's like to love a monster."

**0000000000000**

**Chapter 13: Justice**

Everything was falling apart, all the pieces that had fit so nicely in her head - a jigsaw of all her thoughts on him, their relationship, collapsed. In her mind there was nothing left apart from a heap of useless sentiments. The ground beneath her feet began melting away and the cell and the images of Draco and herself were being drawn into black swirls. She could feel the drag of the pensieve pulling her back to the courtroom when in truth all she wanted to do was to be sucked into a big, black hole like the other memories.

Hermione found herself once more squashed by the wizards and witches that had crammed on to the bench where she sat. She didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to see him. But the force of the unleashed tears that collected behind her closed lids became to much too contain and she opened them, allowing clear streams of liquid to trail paths down her cheeks and onto her trembling fingers which were resting on her lap.

How could he?

How could she? There she was wasting precious seconds of her life on a man who went against everything she believed in, everything that was good. But more importantly how could she still care for him. Despite all that she saw she could still not deny the fact that the thought of him, and the memory of his soft touches brought a rush of butterflies flooding into her insides and shocks of electricity to her skin.

She had become a woman that she hated, but couldn't stop being.

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She felt drained, the jealousy that had over-ridden common sense had finally left her body. And now the poisonous effect that the emotion had could be seen on those around her, for they appeared to be as broken as she had beenYoung witches had their heads buried in the chests of their partners who were trying to be strong, although their quivering lips gave away their true feelings. Even the twice decorated war heroes amongst them were struggling to keep up their posture, hunching under the weight of atrocities they had hoped they would never see again. But she didn't care about these people. They were insignificant, merely a background to the key players.

It didn't take long to spot her in the crowd, and what she saw brought a smile of satisfaction to her face. Hermione Granger no longer the Gryffindor Golden Girl, the darling of wizarding society, instead a damaged, lost little girl who has finally realised what she has gotten into by falling in love with one Draco Malfoy - a life of misery. _Welcome to my world Granger_. If she was determined to steal Draco away from her so be it but Pansy wouldn't let it happen until she made sure Granger knew everything there was to know about Draco, the bad and the good. The ball was now in Granger's court: could she love all of Draco Malfoy and not just the part he had allowed her to see?

Personally Pansy doubted it.

And then he would understandthat no one could love him like she, Pansy Flint, could.

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He had never understood it when people said their minds went blank, that it was emptied of all thoughts, ideas, dreams. He had thought it to be the consequence of being ignorant, stupid. But he was neither of these and yet here he was the smart, witty Draco Malfoy reduced to a person who had nothing besides air seemingly in his head, for his mind had gone completely and utterly blank. Shock and fear had evaporated anything that had ever existed in his brain. His whole body had gone still, muscles in a state of nervous contraction, eyes unblinking - scared that if they were to close they would miss something.

He watched as his past lover left the stand to join the rest of the audience. Her strides were as assured as they had always been, confidence oozing each time her heel made contact with the stone floor. However he noted the anxious flicker of her green eyes to one corner of the room, the one area that was shaded by shadows. Although the darkness hid the occupants of that particular bench he could guess who sat there.. his mother, his aunt, other members of the alliance, wizards who gave little children nightmares. It seemed that Pansy's fate would probably be decided for her, and he had not a shred of pity for her, instead he thought it to be an act of justice, and it gave him a moment of comfort.

However that moment did not last long, for the Prosecution brought out their next witness and then their next. It was an endless parade of aurors retelling their own horror stories all of which contained a man they accused of being Draco killing their colleagues, their loved ones. For Draco faces began melding into one common appearance that consisted of angry eyes, tight lips and a condemning finger pointing in his direction. As each second went past his future seemed to hurtling towards an end that he thought would never occur, his death. In truth the evidence the aurors gave was merely speculation, but it acted as a force driving the damning images Pansy had provided into the heads of all those that were to judge him. Furthermore he knew in cases such as his he would not be able to speak on his own behalf, such was the law now. They would never know that he had no intention on continuing with that way of his life providing Hermione remained with him. Maybe he did not regret all of what he had done in the past, for what he had done then he had believed in at the time, but didn't he deserve the opportunity to show them he could change? That they were going to kill a man who could become as innocent as they all assumed they were.

His only chance was to have a friend, acquaintance even, to speak in his defence. But all his friends had followed the same dark path, taking the same oath that bounded them to silence if one of their own were caught. Not even his mother would take the stand, the threat of a curse hanging over her head were she to break such a promise prevailing over the love she had felt for her son. He should have been angry at them, furious that they would not be brave enough to come to his aid. Then he realised he would have done the same as them, sympathising from afar while at the same time declaring him to be stupid for allowing himself to be caught in the first place.

And so it was Draco Malfoy trapped in a journey that was heading straight into the firey depths of hell, with hope being only an absurddream.

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"Those in favour of clearing the defendant Draco Malfoy of all charges?" came Frickin's penultinum question.

Nervous looks were shared between the judges, with hands floating inches above the wood of benches but not yet raised to count as a vote. The public remained rapt to the scene that was playing out in front of them. Not a single hand had been raised against him. The wail of a mother of one of the accused victim's vibrated around the silent courtroom. Her sobs vibrating in the heads of all those present.

They were scared.

The Wizagamot were scared.

Their fear could be seen in their sweating brows and pale faces. They too had realised the consequences of their actions, like Pansy. Vote against him and there would be no doubt of retribution from the remaining Death Eaters. They all had families, all had ones that they did not want to lose.

From his seat Draco could practically smell the apprehension that was seeping from the high benches, and it filled him with joy. He was free. He was going to go free, after all that happened. His heart had started beating again and he took a huge breath of relief, cooling the heat that had been quickly burning his lungs as he had held his breath during the verdict. He looked towards Hermione. His eyes immediately finding her form in the shocked crowd. Tears were glistening on her ashen face with strands of her hair sticking on her cheek and brow due to the moisture. She was shaking. Her whole body quaking with emotion. She was avoiding eye contact he could tell, she seemed determined to keep her head down, doing anything but looking up. Draco knew she was angry. He knew he could probably never make up for all he had done. But he was willing to do whatever he could to try and get her to forgive him. If only she would give him a chance. Could she do that for him?

At that precise moment her head rose and was now looking straight at him and for once he had no idea what she was thinking. Her normally open brown eyes were unreadable, a thick veil shielding him from her thoughts. Please Hermione, he begged. Just one more chance. Then a flicker of the eyes, still not revealing anything but instead a change in direction, and then she closed them. Suddenly the hush in the courtroom erupted into a series of gasps. What the hell was happening? The mother who had been crying had stopped and a huge smile burst from her lips as she started hugging the man seated next to her. Frantically Draco turned round and there in the midst of the purple sea rose a thin arm. High and proud. Soon more were joining it in the air. One by one hands moved from wood to air. Cheers and claps were exploding from the public sector, pounding in his head.

This couldn't be happening.

Why was this happening?

His throat was tightening, closing in on his airway, cutting his air supply. His heart was thumping. His blood rushing to his head. Spots of colour were appearing in front of his eyes, fireworks in his vision. His mind was screaming and crying at the same time. In the background he could here Frickin's voice again...

"I hereby declare that Draco Malfoy has been deemed guilty by those present in the Wizengamot today. In light of the charges pressed against the accused Draco Malfoy is sentenced to death by _nefastus_ _venenum_ on the night of the twentieth of August."

_I'm sorry Hermione_ was his last thought before Draco blacked out

* * *

A/N _nefastus_ _venenum_ Sinful poison

Cos haven't updated in so long am a bit scared have lost the tone of the story. But let me know what you think and whether I need to revise this chapter to improve it. Till nxt time...

Luv Cedar1


	14. Crazy

**Another Chance?**

**Cedar1**

A/N hope this isn't too confusing but first part is in Pansy's viewpoint, then Ron's with a kind of concluding paragraph at the end of each part.

Thanx to those who reviewed the last chap( am over a 100 Whey!): Draco Forever, yourGUN-myhead, pixie, tara, a, Felicity2, Jayscea, debbie,granger23, babygirl1832z, professor-fidget

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns characters, me the plot.**

**Chapter 15: Crazy... **

**Previously**

Hermione Granger no longer the Gryffindor Golden Girl, the darling of wizarding society, instead a damaged, lost little girl who has finally realised what she has gotten into by falling in love with one Draco Malfoy - a life of misery. _Welcome to my world Granger_. If she was determined to steal Draco away from her so be it but Pansy wouldn't let it happen until she made sure Granger knew everything there was to know about Draco, the bad and the good. The ball was now in Granger's court: could she love all of Draco Malfoy and not just the part he had allowed her to see?

Personally Pansy doubted it.

And then he would understand that no one could love him like she, Pansy Flint, could.

**000000000000000000000**

It seemed that Pansy's fate would probably be decided for her, and he had not a shred of pity for her, instead he thought it to be an act of justice, and it gave him a moment of comfort.

**000000000000000000000**

"I hereby declare that Draco Malfoy has been deemed guilty by those present in the Wizengamot today. In light of the charges pressed against the accused Draco Malfoy is sentenced to death by _nefastus_ _venenum_ on the night of the twentieth of August."

_I'm sorry Hermione_ was his last thought before Draco blacked out

**Chapter 15: Crazy...**

She had tried to run out of the Ministry. However the crowd and the press slowed her down. The cameras were blinding her with their brilliant flashbulbs. Light was cutting through the tears that were starting to spring from her eyes. She could feel herself cracking under their overbearing attention, from the consequences that had been the result of her testimony.

What had she done?

She had stopped now, exposing herself to the press, who were eager to get their photo for tomorrow's front page. She suddenly felt tired. Her legs so heavy. Her heart felt like a lump of lead in her chest. Dead and cold.

How had she come to this?

When had she given herself up fully for love, allowing it to run riot within her and dictate all her actions?

She had never been weak; emotions had never played a large role in her adult life, well not in public any way. And yet over the past month she had yielded to the feeling that was sweeping through her body, letting its bitter nature eat through her. Destroy her and every one else around her.

She felt sick.

She felt guilty.

She needed to get out of here, but she couldn't move.

She was surprised when she felt a hand enclose around her own. The strong arm dragging her through the masses, through a narrow hall way, reaching a door which led them to the outside. It had happened so quickly that she only looked up to see her rescuer's face when she could feel the fresh air stroking the dips and peaks of her face.

Weasley.

He was smiling at her. His thin lips pulled into an expression of sheer joy, while his eyes seemed to glitter in a dance all of their own. He kept bouncing from one foot onto another, excitement preventing him from keeping still.

"I wanted to say thank you," he said, oozing sincerity.

"What for?"

"You know what for."

He was looking at her like they were sharing some private joke. She half expected him to wink.

"Well I didn't do it for you," she replied. His smile fell and his eyes immediately narrowed.

"Why can't you just be happy? This is what we wanted wasn't it?" he questioned, his arms held out in front of him in exasperation.

Indeed it was what they had wanted. The conclusion could not have been any better, but she wasn't happy she was ashamed, let down by her inability to resist that deadly poison that was unrequited love. Of which as a result she had put to death not only herself, but also the only person in her pathetic existence she had truly cared for. She had killed him. There was nothing right with that picture. It was wrong.

They were wrong.

It had taken her so long to realise it, so long that it was now too late to do anything about it. Yet the man in front of her had a chance. Had the smallest possibility of seeking the forgiveness of the person he loved, an opportunity that was lost to her. Maybe if she was to tell him, just maybe, it would relieve the remorse that was consuming her...

"No I'm not Weasley. Don't you realise what we've done. We've destroyed the only people that we have ever loved."

"No we've destroyed their relationship, and only that. Hermione will get over him."

She could tell what he was thinking and she needed to put an end to it for his own good.

"She'll never love you Weasley. Give it up. You're just some guy that floats around in her life, someone completely dispensable."

"Maybe that's how Malfoy treated his friends, not Hermione. We've been friends..."

She cut him off. "That's my point. Friends. Not lovers. Not soul mates. Friends."

But her last word was said to his back as he walked away from her, and she watched open mouthed as the door swung shut in her face. What they had done was wrong and if he couldn't realise that then he was an even bigger fool than she already thought he was. They should have just lived through their rejection no matter how painful it was, for they still had the chance to be in the presence of the one they loved. Loving from afar wasn't that bad, was it? Well it was better than what it was now, which was nothing. Draco probably wouldn't even spit in her face now. She, they, had ruined everything they had had.

And it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Trapped in the world of grief she herself had helped to create Pansy had been unaware of the shadows that were now following her stumbling footsteps. She was deaf to the rustle of fabric against fabric from behind her as wands were slipped from robes. There had been no time to react to the shouts of Avada Kedavra that hit her back. She fell to her knees as green light evaded every sphere of her vision, clouding her life. There had been no pain when her cheekbone had cracked as her face had hit the hard cobble streets with a resounding thump. She could practically feel the life draining out of her, spilling onto the dirty ground beneath her. Her eyes flickering for a moment before finally shutting.

Her face had made the news the next morning. Her stiff body greeting those who opened the papers. Nobody had been too surprised; many would say she had it coming. Few mourned; her own husband not among them as he had already remarried hours after her funeral to one of his many mistresses. The murder was soon forgotten however one detail would continue to prey on some minds. The smile. She had been smiling, almost like she had been craving for death instead of fearing it.

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_How dare she?_ thought Ron as he strode back to the courtroom. _Ungrateful bitch. _Hadn't they set out to do this in the first place? Break them up. Get Draco in prison. The bastard deserved it and there she was trying to say what they had done was wrong. Well fuck her. He had killed. The prick had killed and he was supposed to be shedding tears of sorrow. Fuck that. A small voice spoke in his head annoyingly telling him that his reasons hadn't been as selfless as he would have liked. So what. Perhaps he had done it primarily to rid the blonde freak who had taunted him by his closeness to Hermione. So what if he had thought that once this was done the path would be clear. That there would be no-one to compete with him when he kissed Hermione, loved her. That he would finally be free of Malfoy. Well it doesn't matter. Ron shook his head from side to side, silencing the voice of the ugly truth. It was the end that counted. The means were neither here nor there.

As for what Pansy had said. Hermione would forget him. Eventually. What she had felt was nothing more then an attraction to the dark side, the desire to taste the other way of life. Well she had tried it and, as it should, it had ended badly. Their love was not real. It was too impossible to come into the realms of reality. Whereas him and Hermione it was right, it was possible, and Ron would wait for however long until she too realised that.

His long legs had made quick work of the passage way and he soon emerged in the central reception area. People began grasping his hand, shaking his arm wildly up and down. Whacks of congratulation rained down on his back as he made his way to the head of wild raven hair he could see in the distance. The sound of cries of jubilation that sung in his ears cementing his belief that what they had done was right.

"Ron!"

His friend for seventeen years was now running towards him, and Ron's breath was taken way as Harry's arms crushed round him.

"We've fucking done it mate!" Harry screamed into his face once he had been let go.

Behind him Ron could see his sister hugging Seamus Finnigan, her cheeks glowing with sheer delight. But he couldn't see Hermione. He knew she had been there despite her attempts at blending in with the background. His eyes were darting from one elated face to another. From one smile to another.

"Harry where's Hermione?"

His friend's face instantly sobered, a vacant expression quickly turning to that of concern. He too had seen her in the dungeon, but not after. Without so much as a word passing between them the two men parted, weaving through the throng of people that were celebrating.

The thought that she could possibly have done something stupid, something that made Ron's stomach turn with horror was not lost in his mind as he filtered his way through the crowd. He was pushing people out of the way now. Shit. Where the fuck was she? He was breathing harder and harder. Panting with fear.

"Ron!" A voice yelled.

He turned round sharply and there was Harry, a dishevelled Hermione by his side and his fear was let out with a sigh of relief. He was just about to make his way towards his friends when his sister grasped his arm.

"Come on we're all going to the Yuglingers to celebrate."

He had half a mind to say that he would wait for Hermione and Harry but seeing his sister bursting with eagerness he couldn't say no. No doubt they too would join them.

Indeed they did, but then so had everyone else. Yuglingers was packed to capacity; there was barely room to move. Ron kept intending to get to Hermione who he could see in the corner of his eyes, but for every inch he moved there was somebody else who wanted to compliment him and buy him a drink, and by the time he got to the spot where Hermione had been it was empty. She somehow always managed to end up on the opposite side of the bar to where he was. Eventually he gave up, deciding that the better plan would be to stop by hers later on in the night and say all that he needed to then. For now he lost himself in the atmosphere of flowing alcohol and boisterous chatter.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The partying had carried on late into the night and when Ron had finally emerged from the bar the light blue sky had given way to its darker counterpart. In the glow of the moonlight Ron stumbled to the flower shop he knew he would be open. Roses. Long stemmed roses. She would like that. Full of high spirits he greeted the elderly stall-owner with a bone crushing hug.

"Lovely night isn't it? A bunch of red roses please." Ron ordered, as he hand dove into his robe pockets looking for some change.

"Where is it? Oh there we are." The knuts dropped from his unsteady hands onto the table.

The owner laughed at his drunken state, handing him the roses, warning to be careful of the thorns. Normally Ron would have hated being the source of humour but tonight he just laughed along, waving good-bye as he made his way to Hermione's house.

"Hermione. I love you."

He practised the phrase again and again.

"Hermione. I love you." He thrust the roses in front of him, to his imaginary Hermione. She would of course start crying in happiness before enveloping him in a hug of acceptance. It seemed so perfect in his head.

How could it not be perfect in real-life?

No. It would be fine. It was fate, he reasoned.

Hermione's door came into view and the collection of butterflies started fluttering in nervousness in his stomach. Having reached the stairs he stopped and passed his hand through his hair, down his robes trying to get rid of the dirt and wrinkles his robes always seemed to attract.

This was it.

He went step by step. Pacing himself. Breathing in and out in even rhythms, calming himself. A white fist knocked on the door.

Tap. Tap.

No one.

TAP TAP.

Still no-one. Perhaps she had been caught up in conversation to someone. Well he would wait and he collapsed onto the stone steps. It was probably for the best. Give him time to really think about what to say, an outright declaration of love was possibly not the greatest tactic anyway. She had been through a lot. Subtlety was the way to go. Ron sighed in dismay that had never been a quality of his.

Minutes turned into hours and the alcohol that had made a fog of all his thoughts had cleared, leaving behind a painful headache and an even more painful realisation.

She wasn't coming back.

He pulled out another cigarette. Shit only one left, the rest had been discarded at his feet in a messy pile of useless butts and ashes. He lit the remaining fag, breathing it in deeply; making full use of the calming effects of the nicotine, for it was the only thing that stopped him from screaming and tearing his hair out.

Sunrise had been and gone and she hadn't turned up. Maybe he was just being pessimistic, there were lots of possibilities on her whereabouts, and yet some how, in some tiny, dark part of his brain he knew she wasn't coming back. Sitting here on the step he had had a lot of time to think and much of it had been spent mulling over Pansy's words.

Friends?

It wasn't a bad thing to be. She still loved him, just not in that way. Not in the way she had loved Malfoy - Ron threw the flowers onto the ground in anger. Petals flew up into the air before floating back down again, making a strange picture with the cigarette remains.

He closed his eyes in defeat. So Malfoy had won. The bastard. Suddenly he heard footsteps ascending up the stairs.

Just maybe.

Just maybe it would be her.

He could feel his heart getting lighter with the hope that was building up within him.

Just maybe.

He opened his eyes, and he couldn't stop the tears that rolled in a stream down his face.

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A/N a bit of a cliffie, but I'm allowed cos have only 2 more chapters left! And I know Ron and Pans are not most peoples fav characters but I'm afraid it had to be done. Will be explained in nxt chap (don't wanna give the rest of the story away!) Oh and I know Pansy suddenly got a heart but what the hey I gave her the benefit of the doubt!

Reviews are def appreciated,

Luv Cedar1


	15. Love

**Another Chance?**

**By Cedar1**

A/N thanx to JuxtaposedSchism, Gnomie022, Alexis, professor-fidget, Black Rose 15, hp71605, malfoylove9090, Dracodraconis, black colour vision, Tanya, HogwartzboizRHottiez, Norikukitsune for reviewing the last chapter

Just wanted to say a special thanks (and mini-disclaimer) to Debbie who reviewed chapter 13. Your comment inspired the reason Hermione goes and sees Draco...

This was the hardest chapter to write thats why it took so long am still not too sure on it, but i could keep redoing it 4ever and i thought id better just bite the bullet and post it so let me know what u think.

Ta!

Disclaimer: Mrs Rowling for characters

**Chapter 15: ...Love**

The guard looked at her quizzically. He had heard, of course he had heard, all about how he had captured her, tortured her. How she had been the catalyst that had preceded a cascade of events that had led eventually to the infamous Draco Malfoy's sentence. But that all made sense, her sudden appearance demanding entry to see him didn't. She was staring at him, her stance determined and hard, daring him to ask the question that he was burning to ask. His mouth felt dry and his tongue suddenly felt unusually large. If it was anyone else he would have been able to speak without a moments thought but, it wasn't just anyone, it was Hermione Granger. She was an untouchable, a person who stood on a pedestal and could not be questioned. He had been trained and told to follow the orders of three people without doubt, and she was one of them. Yet with her wild hair, sweating face and burning eyes she seemed the last person to be allowed into a cell with a dangerous criminal, especially considering what she had been through. He wanted Draco Malfoy dead like everyone else but from a legal point of view, not by the hands of one of their most famous witches. She was still glaring at him, challenging him and he said nothing except release the charm that rendered the cast iron door locked.

She didn't even say thank you as she slammed the door shut behind her. For half an hour he pondered on the situation, eventually deciding to call Harry Potter and alert him of the visit. But by then it was too late.

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Hours had seen events and thoughts circulate around in her head. Spinning details and stomach churning truths performing a never ending parade in her mind. She had been blind and deaf to everything that had gone on around her; Harry dragging her to Yulingers, the sympathetic voices of friends telling her _it would be okay_. They didn't know that it would never be okay. She would never be okay, not while he was alive, not while he was still about for her to love. She had to end it. She needed to surround herself with barriers that he could not penetrate. She needed to remind herself of what he was, a murderer, not the man that she had fallen in love with, the man that he had disguised himself as being. It wasn't real. He wasn't real.

She had slipped away from the party and headed straight to the prison. At first she thought the guard would refuse her but she forgot how powerful her reputation was and was relieved when he released the spell that separated him from her. For once her heart wasn't a beating rampage when he looked up and stared into her eyes, it was steady and resolute for it knew what it had to do.

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The sentence had seemed like a century ago. Time had crept with a maddening slowness, stretching out his remaining living seconds, apparently wanting to torture him for all his mistakes. Giving him time to think, to regret. She didn't understand that a lifetime of being moulded into the perfect pureblood, the perfect Death Eater, could not be so easily shed. Sharpness and coldness had been instilled within him since birth and had simply been allowed to mature with age. He did not blame his parents for it, for they had been the reasons for his survival thus far. He did not want the last desperate attempt to turn back time and convince his younger self that the dark way of life was not the correct path to take. For who was to say what was right and what was wrong? His beliefs were his beliefs and she had no entitlement to say that they were incorrect. But what he did regret was not explaining to her that she was the only one outside the sphere he had created that had ever infiltrated his soul. She didn't realise that every time he had hurt her it had been a struggle, a fight against the character that he thought he always was: a man who needed no one else but himself.

It was ironic the fact that you were only prepared to stop fighting once the moment had passed and death was at your doorstep. He had sacrificed that skin of a man for one who loved. It may not be some revolutionary transformation, one that saw him weeping at her feet, crying out that all he had done and said that did not concern her were things that he wished he could take back. They weren't. But it was a change, a minor change, which would have made him give up everything he had for her.

If only she could see.

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The door to the cell suddenly opened and his heart actually stopped. So this was it. Perhaps time had not gone as slowly as he had thought, for now it seemed that the moment had come too soon. He kept his head bowed. For a second time in two days he was scared. The heart cradled within his chest was thumping with increasing pace. It pounded against his ribs, pushing their delicate bones into the flesh of his lungs, making it harder for him to breathe. And so here he was in his final hour morphing into the coward his father had adamantly proclaimed he was during his childhood. He wanted to be brave and meet death head on, spit in its eyes and smirk up at its face. He did not want to wilt, to wither into a body that reeked of fear. He had wanted to keep his dignity, his pride; to keep all the things that his father had lost in his last days. But it appeared as if the old saying was true- like father, like son. So he kept his head bowed, concentrating instead on the shadow that had been painted on the floor of his cell. He watched as it shortened with each footstep his angel of death took. Angel of death. He had named it within a second of meeting it. _Angel_, perhaps the idealistic hope that he was going to heaven rather than hell and in addition the fact that he knew it was a her. Her smell had given her away, a hint of soap laced with the scent of rose buried beneath the denser, heavier stench of cigarettes and alcohol. The idea of flirting with her, seducing her, in return for her allowing him to escape flitted in his brain. But it would probably do no good. People who did these acts didn't have hearts or secret desires. They were impenetrable to acts of trickery, bribery. They had no weaknesses, that's what made them so good at their job. No one was allowed to avoid their fate.

Well maybe he couldn't avoid it but he was damn well not going to give in to it sooner than was necessary, so he kept his eyes looking down. She was standing right next to him now. Her body blocking out the pathetic scrap of light that was allowed to filter through the key hole. She had plunged his life into darkness, literally.

He waited.

And waited.

Why was she not doing anything?

Why had she not jerked his head up and forced the slim neck of the bottle between his lips?

Why had she not slammed his head against the wall and laughed as he had the scalding liquid trickle slowly down his throat, into his insides?

Why was he not screaming with pain and agony as the poison burnt holes through his organs?

Why was he not drowning in a pool of his own bodily fluids?

The steady sound of her breathing did nothing to qualm the tides of confusion that were hitting his brain in relentless waves.

Did she want to him to beg?

Is that when she would start?

With courage that had thus far eluded him he looked up.

"Hermione?"

He didn't know whether the image of Hermione looming over him rather than an angel of death made him relieved or nervous. Perhaps this was the chance he had been wishing for, the opportunity to tell her exactly what he had regretted not saying...that he would give up everything for her. But before he could get his lips around the words she silenced him with unsettling calm, angry ones of her own.

"Don't say anything. I don't want to hear anything from you. How could you lie to me?"

The hatred that radiated from her still form overpowered the workings of his brain, bringing it to a resounding halt. All thoughts of voicing the sacrifice he was prepared to make for her was silenced, squashed, before it had time to even pass his lips. The muscle that lined the elegant angle of her jaw was twitching, pulsating under her skin, beating in anger. He could hear the dull thud of muscle hitting bone.

Or maybe that was his own heart?

He had seen her angry, seen her furious. Yet this was a plane of fury he had never associated with her. It was cold, collected. The type of rage that could not simply be extinguished with words. It reminded him of his father, before the storm was unleashed and the wand pointed. The seconds before everything would come to ahead.

And he could do nothing but open and close his mouth, each time wanting to say something, anything. She took his pathetic attempt as a beginning to a denial.

"No. Don't lie to me. Do you think I could believe anything you say after what I just saw? You're a murderer, a cold-blooded murderer. All those children, all those people. I can't look at you. I could never love someone like you."

Her last sentence hit like a sledgehammer.

"Now whose lying?" He retaliated.

She shook her head from side to side, as if she couldn't believe what she had done.

"I was in love with a person who never existed. The Draco Malfoy I fell in love with is not the person I saw in the pensieve. No that was the real Draco Malfoy."

"What do you want me to do? Apologise? Because I won't. I don't regret a thing."

She was on him in a blink of an eye. Cold hands slapping his face and his chest. He could do nothing but wait for her to grow tired for his hands were bound tightly behind his back. Seconds and then minutes passed and her breathing was becoming more erratic and laboured. The period between punches lengthening and reducing in strength.

It was only a matter time before she stopped and collapsed on top of him with exhaustion. She was shattered, physically and mentally. Why was it so hard?

"I only regret never telling you I loved you sooner than I did."

The words he whispered in her ear only made it harder.

"Why would that have made you a better man?" She murmured back.

"Perhaps."

"As if. I can't change you Draco. No one can. He was right."

"Who was right?"

"Ron."

"The Weasel. You're listening to that idiot."

"Well that idiot is caring, kind, loving. Someone I love. Someone you could never be."

Imagine a million swords piercing into you, straight through your skin, beyond the layers of fat and the solidity of your organs, and into your soul. The pain getting increasingly unbearable with each nasty blow. That's what her words did to him. Tearing him apart, shredding him to pieces. Reflexes took over and he pulled his legs from under him, from under her, and into his chest, nursing the hurt. The action unseated her from his lap and onto the floor.

Hermione struggled to lift herself up for the emotions that ran riot in her body were making her limbs weak.

It was done.

It had all been a lie. She knew what would hit him the hardest.

But it was done.

He had stopped loving her and started hating her.

And she ... well she could tell herself that in the end he hated her. That it had never really been love. That it had only been a glitch in the middle of their relationship. They had gone round full circle and were now back to the beginning, returning once more to familiar territory, hatred.

"Fine go on then run to your precious Weasley. Be the fucking bastard's whore. But don't forget that I loved you Hermione. And I'll always love you whether you like it or not," came his bitter speech as she began to walk away from him.

It shouldn't have affected her the way it did, for wasn't this what she wanted...for him to hate her. But for the second time that night the desire to slap him overcame every other thought that was filling her head and she quickly marched up to him, her hand flying through the air threateningly. How could he tell her he loved her while calling her a whore? In his defence Draco did nothing, he didn't even bother to shield his face from her by turning towards the wall. His silver eyes were blazing into her own, daring her to do it. It was mere millimetres from his cheek that her hand stopped. It was then she realised that he had wanted her to do it. It had been his twisted way of getting his punishment from her in return for all the heartache he had caused her. Well it wasn't going to be that easy. A few hard smacks weren't going to be enough for her to forgive, for her to trust him fully.

"Why are you doing this? Lying to yourself. To me. Why do you want to hurt us?"

His questions lit a flame underneath the pool of trapped emotions that lay within her and she exploded. Screaming, not caring if the whole world heard her." Hurt us! Hurt us! You destroyed us! You destroyed me!"

"All I did was love you."

"Stop saying that."

"Why?"

"Because it hurts too much."

She dropped to the floor next to him. Her hands cradling her aching head. They stayed like that. A couple trapped in the aftermath of their love and their regrets. They could have remained like that for ever, grieving their past and the loss of a future that was impossible. Until one took the initiative, and grasped that last, single thread of hope.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I was just too weak to say what I really wanted. That I loved you and would have given up everything up for you."

"Your friends? Your family? Your dark fucking mark?"

"Yes."

He hadn't even needed to think over the reply. It had come out as effortlessly as the first time he told her he loved her. Speaking the truth really was easy.

She hadn't expected the answer to come so quickly, so without thought. Perhaps... perhaps there was a chance. Breathing heavily, her chest heaving with the anticipation, she found herself looking straight into his eyes. His beautiful eyes. Staring into him and she knew, despite everything, she loved him.

Did he deserve it? No.

Did she trust him absolutely? No.

Had she fully forgiven him? No.

And yet she loved him. All of him. So completely, so utterly.

In the same token she could see he loved her just as madly, just as crazily. He loved her despite the blood that he had been brought up to believe was mud. He loved her even though everything she believed was at complete odds with his own convictions. He loved her in spite of the hatred he felt for her friends, and all those around her.

It was crazy their love. It made no sense. And yet here she was dropping to her knees, slipping her wand from out of her robes, and whispering the dark incantation that she had memorised near the lock of the shackles that bound his feet.

It was amazing what love made you do. For it was making her put aside all of her strongly held morals and made her prepared to leave everything behind for the man she loved. Her quivering fingers were now working on threading the iron from around his ankles, every so often feeling the smooth skin of his legs on her fingertips.

Love was turning her world upside down. It was consuming her, controlling her, driving her to things that were against all sane sense. And she had succumbed fully to its immense power, as she now worked on removing the restraints on his hands.

"Hermione. Hermione."

He had been calling out to her for several minutes but she appeared to be deeply lost in her own world while at the same time performing spells he had never heard off that released him from his chains. The feather light touch of her fingers that seemed to dance on his hands was igniting jolts of excitement through his entire body. He felt himself getting lighter and lighter, the heavy weight of regret and dread that had weighed on his shoulders since the verdict being lifted in one amazing go. And all because of this woman in front of him. The woman he was never supposed to love, not in this world or he would have thought any other.

But here they were, defying all reason.

It was crazy and wondrous at the same time.

She had finally finished ridding him of his prison bonds and her hand had at last come to rest on his cheek. Not as a slap but as a tender, loving touch. Her fingers trailing downwards to his mouth, tracing his full lips. He was shaking next to her, but then so was she.

For one fearful moment he thought she wasn't going to go through with it. That she would realise how insane this was.

However his mind and his heart were put to rest as he heard the words tumble from her lips...

"I love you."

With the swish of her wand they had apparated away.

Disappearing from the wizarding world.

Hiding from those that hunted them.

Running away from everything that had opposed them.

They were free now. Free to give themselves up and fall deeply in crazy love.

* * *

A/N

NOTE: just to clarify Ron was crying because it wasn't Hermione, it was someone else.. who, you decide. And b4 people ask hermione knew how to escape being such an important auror.

ok that was kinda the climax, nxt chappie is bascially just sumthin little. Hope it wasn't too mushy and predictable.


	16. Because I love him

**Another Chance?**

**By Cedar1**

**NOTE:** kinda stating the obvious here but this is simply a letter from Hermione to Ginny, its not much but hope u like it...

**Chapter 15 : Because I love him**

Dear Ginny

I really don't know where to begin. I suppose it's best to start of with sorry. I'm sorry I've disappointed you all. I'm sorry for destroying all we had. I'm sorry I couldn't love your brother the way he wanted me to. I'm sorry for breaking the law. I'm sorry for the part I played in Pansy's death. I'm sorry for being so weak.

But I love him.

I love him so much that all the things that I did wrong are justified in my head. I go to sleep each night with a clear conscious when instead I feel like I should be praying for God to forgive all my sins. I'm a bad person. Someone who doesn't deserve to be alive.

Yet I am and it's only because of him. Because each morning when I wake up next to him my heart starts to beat and each night when he kisses me to sleep he breathes life into me.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that he's a part of me, a part I could never discard. He's in me,I think of him every minute of every day. I know what he hasdone in the past. I realise that he could easily turn round and hurt me again. But I'm willing to take that risk, take that chance because...

Because I love him.

That's why I did all I did. I don't know whether this will make sense to anyone but myself, but I hope you will understand and will all forgive me.

Love Hermione

* * *

A/N that's it. this ship has sailed... the curtain has fallen...etc. Have finished (finally!) my 1st long fic yay!

a huge thanx to every1 who has reviewed in the past and put a happy, cheesy grin on my face!

But cud u do us a favour and do it again ( cheeky grin and not so subtle wink)

Cheers! Luv Cedar1


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